


The Season for Sin

by Elle_Morgan_Black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Come Swallowing, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Double Penetration, Draco Malfoy has a big dick, Erotic Poetry, Established Lucius/Hermione, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light BDSM, Lucius Malfoy has a Big Dick, Lumione - Freeform, Masturbation, Mentions of Sex Toys, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, PWP, Praise Kink, Seduction, Sexual Fantasy, Shameless Smut, Size Kink, Squirting, Submission, Threesome, Voice Kink, Voyeurism, tridogmom's Dirty Festivus 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_Morgan_Black/pseuds/Elle_Morgan_Black
Summary: Lucius has guided Hermione’s sexual awakening and descent into debauchery. She wants to learn more, and he’s got a deliciously wicked request of his young wife. Call it a Christmas present, really. He wants her to seduce Draco.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Lucius Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 91
Kudos: 366
Collections: Dirty Festivus 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Talonwillow (TalonWillow)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalonWillow/gifts).



> This was written for the Dirty Festivus exchange as a gift for Talon Willow. This story is basically shameless smut. If you’re looking for plot there’s not much here. You will, however, find the smuttiest smut I’ve ever smutted. Many thanks to SulisWrites for her assistance with this story and to TriDogMom for hosting Dirty Festivus! Enjoy!

# 

# Chapter 1

Lucius Malfoy lounged in silence, watching his wife with the quiet intensity of a predator as she perused the bookshelves of his family’s ancestral home. He wondered if she knew that the hem of her ivory silk chemise rode up every time she reached for a book on a tall shelf, giving him a spectacular view of her thong-clad arse. 

He smirked to himself and took a sip of firewhisky from a leaded crystal glass, savouring the burn as he swallowed. Of course she knew. She knew and she was taunting him, his perfect, debauched little protégée. 

Hermione Granger Malfoy. 

What a shock that had been to the greater wizarding world: the Dark Lord’s former right-hand man, wed to Gryffindor’s Golden Girl. He still enjoyed recalling how horrified so many had been, how convinced everyone was that he had her under an _imperius_ curse or had used other dark magic to somehow draw her to him. Even his own son had questioned him about his involvement with “Granger,” as he called her, and Lucius detected more than a hint of envy in Draco’s voice. 

What none of them knew, what they would all be shocked to know, is that beneath the high-necked, perfectly pressed robes, behind the tight chignon and stern stares that brooked no disagreement, a shameless libertine lurked, dying to be set free. She’d been smothered under the weight of societal expectations after the war, and a career that could lead to the Minister for Magic’s chair, if she so desired. Lucius could see what lurked beneath the surface, what wicked, sinful, depraved desires simmered inside of her. 

There was something there in the way that she moved, how she touched her throat during a conversation, how her eyes sparked with passion and fire in an argument even as she retained exquisite control over her physical being. He had to know more, had to see more. He wanted to devour her inside and out until he understood every nook and cranny of her body and soul and knew what made her tick. He offered mentorship, in secret, subtly guiding her in the unspoken ways of pureblood culture that had never been explained to her before. Politics, the Ministry, pureblood society - it was all a game, and he loved nothing more than playing it, using tidbits of information and strategy to convince the players to move themselves about the board.

She lapped it up, each morsel and tidbit of advice. She was downright hostile to his offer at first, then deeply suspicious, and eventually, when she had proof herself that his methods worked, she began to trust him. It was like taming a wild horse, although he had no desire to break her. 

Their unlikely partnership continued in secret, strictly platonic, much to his dismay, until one random Tuesday of little or no particular importance, they got into a fight. If asked today, he could not recall what the argument was about, although it likely involved a disagreement over some Ministry policy or another. Fire burned in her eyes, her chest heaved with each angry breath, and magic sparked about her, without her even realising it. 

She was magnificent, and he had to have her. There was no other way around it. 

He’d moved first, pushing her against the wall of his office, grasping her slender wrists in his hands and pinning her there, hands above her head as he plundered her mouth. 

She’d been shocked into silence at the kiss, at their position. She’d shoved him away and slapped him. Then she’d flung herself at him, kissing him with all of the passion and fury he knew boiled inside her. 

When he thought of that day, he thought of words like “feral” and “animalistic.” 

She wound her fingers in his long hair and tugged - hard. She bit his lip and later his shoulder, leaving bite marks in his pale skin. She tore at his clothes, and he responded in kind, ripping her blouse open and sending buttons scattering. They knocked over a lamp and a small side table in their fervor. He fucked her into the floor, leaving rug burns on her shoulder blades. She tore his trousers with the pointy black heel of her stiletto, which he was delighted she left on as he took her, and she left claw marks down his back. 

He made her scream.

She came three times.

It was rough and angry and wild and uncontrollable. 

It was destruction and chaos, wiping away the sins of the past and leaving a way forward in its wake. 

He had to _obliviate_ more than a dozen people who’d overheard them.

She fled from him after they fucked, which he’d expected. He gave her time to overthink their actions and adjust to the seachange that had occurred between them. But not long. He could not wait forever. She was perfect, and he had to have her.

He’d pursued her, fought with her, seduced her, and married her, all whilst tearing down her inhibitions. He was an unrepentant hedonist, and he delighted in showing her the pleasures of the flesh, all of the dirty, naughty, forbidden things she’d dreamed about in secret but never shared with anyone else. He loved making her submit, seeing her kneel before him, her body bound in ropes or leather or chains or even silk scarves, all for his pleasure. He loved denying her and then tying her down and rewarding her with repeated orgasms until she squirted and cried and begged for mercy as her body shook and she struggled to catch her breath. He loved the smell of supple leather and the sound a flogger made as he brought it down on her back, her arse, her thighs, and even her pert little breasts. He loved the way her skin bloomed in shades of pink and red from his exploits and the smell of her cunt as it dripped and wept during their wicked games. 

He’d not set out to remarry after his divorce from Narcissa, but the more time he spent with Hermione, the more obsessed with her he became until the idea of letting her go became unfathomable. She wasn’t just wild and sexy and attractive. She was also brilliant and cunning and ambitious beyond belief. She was his, and together they would be unstoppable.

Lucius watched her slide a book from the top shelf and flip through it. It was a 19th century treatise on sex magic that he knew well. He smirked as she glanced surreptitiously in his direction, and his cock twitched in his pants at her expression. They’d enjoyed dinner, fucking, a shower, and after-dinner drinks, and he had a feeling she was ready for the second round of the night. He’d been watching her sexy librarian act for the last half hour, sipping his drink and thinking about where in the library he’d fuck her this time.

He’d previously taken her up against the bookshelves and against the wall. He’d taken her on top of the big mahogany table in the centre of the library and bent her over one of the smaller ones. He’d fucked her on the soft plush carpets and on most of the wingback chairs and sofas scattered about the space. He’d seduced her with beautiful words and ancient tomes, and he was certain by this point that if he got a whiff of amortentia, it would smell like the leather and parchment of old books and Hermione’s perfume.

“What delights have you found, my little libertine?” he called out to her.

She’d replaced the sex magic book and had a smaller book in her hands as she turned to him, the hint of a smile on her face.

His cock twitched appreciatively in his pants. His body’s response to her had become damn near Pavlovian in the time that they’d been together. 

“A book of poetry.”

“Oh? Anything interesting?” he asked before taking another sip of whisky. 

“Very. Shall I read to you?” 

He patted the cushion beside him on the settee. “Come over here.”

She flipped the book open, ignoring his request and began to read aloud.

_“Teach me to sin - in love’s forbidden ways, for you can make all passion pure.”_

Hermione looked up from the page as she finished the sentence, and Lucius was captivated by the expression on her face. She was not as striking and statuesque as his former wife, but she had a certain _je ne sais quoi_ that extended far beyond physical beauty. 

_“The magic lure of your sweet eyes each shape of sin makes virtue praise.”_

Her voice was low and seductive as she met his steady gaze. Oh how he loved the fire in her dark amber eyes!

“My darling, I believe we have ventured far beyond me teaching you to sin,” he said with a smirk as he finished his drink. 

She smiled back at him and slowly began to walk toward him, the strap of her chemise slipping down from one shoulder and baring the soft curve of her breast. 

_“Teach me to sin - enslave me to your wanton charms.”_

“Now _that_ , I’ve already done, _mon petit esclave, ma femme_.” He was playing at nonchalance, but in truth hearing erotic poetry spilling from her luscious lips had him hard.

She came closer, and Lucius had to shift to relieve the pressure in his trousers. She noticed - of course she did - and her smirk in response was sexy as hell.

_“Crush me in your velvet arms and make me, make me love you.”_

She stopped in front of him and he leaned forward to run his fingertips lightly up the sides of her bare legs, under the silky fabric, and up to her hips where he gripped the sides of her thong and tugged downward. He dragged the cream-colored scrap of lace down her legs, pausing to let her step out of the knickers. 

She gazed down at him and smiled as she continued.

_“Make me fire your blood with new desire, and make me kiss you - lip and limb.”_

He held her by the hips as he jerked her into his lap, making her gasp at the sudden movement. She settled on top of him, straddling him, and he could feel the heat of her cunt through his trousers. 

Lucius tugged at the side of her chemise, fully baring her breast to him and kissed around the soft curve and the puckered skin of her areola before teasing her hard little nipple with lips, teeth, and tongue. Her head fell back momentarily as she moaned, and he wondered if she had it in her to finish the poem.

_“Till sense reel and pulses swim.”_

Her voice was breathless now and her hips rolled instinctively, her body seeking his. Her fingers wove through his long blond hair as she cradled his head at her breast.

_“Aye, even if you hate me,”_ she read as he let go of her nipple with an audible pop to focus on unfastening his trousers and freeing his cock.

Lucius positioned her over him just as she recited the final line of the poem.

_“Teach me to sin.”_

He lifted his hips and drove his cock home, slipping into her wet pussy with a groan.

“You’ve already learned to sin, darling,” he pushed out, watching the way the book slipped from her hand and her head fell back and her eyelids fluttered in pleasure.

Hermione took over, lifting herself until only the tip of his cock brushed her entrance and then sliding back down.

“And you’ve been such a diligent student, haven’t you, my depraved, wanton little wife?” he said as he freed her from the confines of her nightclothes. 

“You love it.”

“I do.”

He leaned back into the cushions of the settee and watched her ride his cock as he caressed her skin, knowing that a tweak of her nipple and his finger circling her clit with _just_ the right pressure would send her over the edge in seconds. He would hold off, though. He didn’t want her to come just yet.

“I love hearing erotic poetry drip from your lips like honey, and I love it even more when you lose the ability to form sentences with that smart mouth, when you can barely catch your breath as you’re coming again and again.”

“Mmmm… yes, keep talking, Lucius. Please.” Her hands cupped her breasts, fingers rubbing at her nipples.

“Your tight little pussy is so wet. Did reading those poems turn you on this much, or was it the treatise on sex magic?”

“All of it. You know I love erotic literature.”

He would have laughed had he not been bollocks deep in her cunt. He’d introduced her to his collection of erotic literature and art, and she’d immediately begun to expand their library. Far too many wizards failed to understand that the brain was a sexual organ as well, and someone as brilliant as Hermione Granger (now Malfoy) had to be seduced by knowledge and by words before any man could begin to show her what he could do with his lips, his tongue, and his cock.

“Yes, my filthy bookworm, I know. Did you enjoy teasing me? Flashing your arse at me while you looked at your naughty books?” 

“Mmm...I did. Did you like watching me?”

“Always. I love watching you. And I love hearing your sweet pleas for lessons in sin.”

Her recitation of that poem had sparked his imagination. Teach her to sin? Even now, she was asking for more? Even after all he’d done, all the wonderful, delicious ways he’d corrupted her? What other delectable erotic skills could he impart to his eager pupil? 

He pulled her forward and brought her lips down to kiss for a bruising kiss. Her wild curls fell like a curtain around him, and he relished being so utterly surrounded by her. After a few breathless moments of her grinding on his cock, Lucius released her lips and nipped at her jaw, moving toward her sensitive ear and throat.

“Oh yes… like that…” Hermione murmured as he tugged her hair sharply and lavished attention on her neck. 

“All I’ve done to you, all I’ve taught you, and you still want more?” he whispered, punctuating his words with a bite to her ear lobe.

She shuddered in his lap and ground her clit into his pelvis. She was close, he could tell. He’d learned her body inside and out and could see the signs. Lucius gripped her arse cheek and used it to hold her in place, stopping her thrusts in favor of keeping his cock deep in her pussy whilst she rocked her hips back and forth, grinding on him in a way that never failed to make her come. 

“Oh god… don’t stop,” she breathed. 

“Answer me, darling. You still want more?”

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close to her and tangling her fingers in his long, silky hair. 

“Gonna come… soon. So close.”

“You still want me to teach you more? You haven’t learned enough of sin from me yet?” he ground out.

“Yes, yes, always more, Lucius,” she pushed out in a rush. 

A thrill went through him at her words. Oh she was so perfect, so very perfect for him. 

“You’ve been such a diligent pupil, such a _good girl_ for me. How would you like to learn to _orchestrate_ sin now, my love?”

For a brief moment, her movement stalled, and she pulled back to gaze at him with those beautiful amber-brown eyes of hers, a questioning look on her face. He knew she wondered what he meant, but instead of allowing her to ask the questions he knew would come, he took advantage of the shift in their position to reach down and rub little circles directly on her clit. 

She jerked in response and cried out, “Yes, oh god, oh fuck, yes,” words falling breathlessly from her lips as her hips automatically sped up in response, chasing an orgasm barely out of reach. 

“Will you be my dutiful pupil in the orchestration of sin?” he prompted.

“Yes, yes, yes, Lucius!” 

His name fell from her lips in a litany of praise and affirmation as she came, her cunt fluttering and milking his cock before she collapsed on top of him, her refrain of “yes,” still a whisper on her lips. 

He gave in after that, gripping her tightly as he thrust into her from below. Three, four times, and he came, his cock spurting into her, filling her to overflowing. 

~oOo~

They lingered in the library for a time, breathing as one, her head tucked into his shoulder and her breath warm on his neck as he stroked her hair and her spine. 

“That was so good,” she said quietly. 

“Mmm. I shall endeavour to locate new books of poetry for you my love if that is how you react to them.”

He heard the faintest snicker below his ear. 

“It’s a beautiful poem.”

“Made even more so when recited by you.”

She lifted her head to smile shyly at him and kiss his cheek. “You say the most beautiful things to me. I love you, Lucius.”

He kissed her forehead, a sweet gesture he knew she liked and that he reserved for the privacy of their home, for doing so in public would surely ruin his reputation as a cold, harsh, and dark wizard.

“And I you, my darling.”

She yawned and tucked her head back into the crook of his neck. 

“What did you mean about orchestrating sin?”

Lucius laughed lightly. “It’s late. We can talk about it another time.”

He reached for his wand and apparated them to their bedroom before she could respond. Hermione smacked his shoulder in annoyance. 

“I hate it when you apparate without warning!”

He laughed again as he deposited her naked body onto the bed. “You’re just fine. I was too tired to walk up the stairs. I’m an old wizard, and you’ve worn me out.”

She shifted into a reclining position against the pile of pillows on the headboard as he tucked his cock back into his pants and waved his wand, casting a silent cleansing spell over them both. 

She scoffed at him. “You? Worn out? Not my vain peacock of a husband. Don’t try to distract me with commentary about your age. What did you mean by orchestrating sin?”

Lucius ignored her as he slipped out of his clothes and slid into the bed beside her, gathering her in his arms.

“You said you had an early morning, and our foray into the library has already kept us up late. Let us discuss it later, my love.”

She pouted but settled into a comfortable position against him, pressing a kiss to his collarbone and then his neck. 

“Fine. But I won’t forget about it.”

“No, I doubt you will,” he said with a chuckle. 

A wave of his hand magically drew the blankets around them and extinguished the lights. 

“Good night, Hermione.”


	2. Chapter 2

#  Chapter 2

Predictably, Hermione had been unable to let go of Lucius’s mid-coitus question about learning the orchestration of sin. She was rather like a dog with a bone when something piqued her curiosity, and he’d known as soon as the words slipped from his mouth that she would bring it up again. 

He wasn’t even sure he’d intended to make such a suggestion. 

It was true that all manner of sordid thoughts and fantasies had flitted through his head where his lovely young wife was concerned, only a portion of which he’d shared with her. He assumed her Gryffindor bravery had limits, and thus there were some things he kept to himself. And then he’d been caught up in her poem and her sweet pleas for more, and he’d let his mouth override his mind. 

Hermione had come so far from the tight-laced, buttoned up prude he’d once accused her of being. Her fire, her passion, all of that was hers innately, but he’d coaxed it out of her, helped her shed her inhibitions and embrace her desires. It was only natural that he’d want to lead her further down the path of sin and iniquity. He wanted to see her put all of her seductive skills to the test. He wanted to see her play the sex kitten and lure some poor, unsuspecting witch or wizard into their twisted games. 

They’d previously talked - more hypothetically - about threesomes, swinging, orgies, and the like. Hermione was a diligent student in the pursuit of carnal knowledge, and there were few topics she considered too taboo for discussion. He had to admit that he relished the idea of watching another witch between his wife’s legs, lapping at her sweet cunt. The idea of fucking Hermione whilst she fingered and licked another witch’s pussy also had a certain appeal to him. Of course, if there was another witch in their bed, he’d want to fuck her too - it was only fair, after all. It was at that point in their conversation that she’d cast him a withering glare and shut down the idea altogether. He adored her jealousy. His kitten had claws, and he loved that about her. 

Lucius had, of course, participated in group sex before. Narcissa had never been the most passionate of wives and was content for him to satisfy his urges elsewhere, as long as he did so discreetly. He’d enjoyed a handful of encounters with multiple partners, and as much as he relished the idea of having another witch in bed with them, he let it drop out of respect for Hermione.

But another wizard… ah, _ that  _ was a whole other subject.

They’d discussed it, in theory, and she was intrigued by the idea of two mouths, two tongues, two cocks, and two sets of hands worshipping her body. They’d played at it as well, with Lucius pressing two or even three fingers into her mouth whilst he fucked her, mimicking the thrusting movement of his hips as she hollowed her cheeks and worked her tongue over his digits. He found the term “spit-roasting” to be vulgar, but he did relish the idea of fucking her whilst she sucked another wizard’s cock. 

Plus there were so many other decadent pleasures to enjoy with a threesome.

Hermione was not a virgin when he first took her on the floor of his office, but her experience was limited and had not progressed to the pleasures of anal sex. He’d gradually introduced her to the idea, coaxing her with fingers and lips and tongue and pretty words until he eventually took her anal virginity, rubbing at her clit whilst balls deep in her arse as she writhed and shook and clenched down on his cock in orgasm. Once he showed her how enjoyable it could be, she was incredibly amenable to anal play, and he loved filling her holes with both fingers or a sex toy and cock at the same time. He knew that she would love being taken by two wizards at the same time, that she’d adore the exquisite burn of being stretched and filled with two cocks. 

This fantasy unnerved him to some degree, for Lucius was a possessive wizard, and Hermione was not a witch he’d ever share easily. He was all too aware that many in the wizarding world disliked him still for his role during the war and thusly disapproved of his relationship with Harry Potter’s best friend. He had no doubt many a wizard would take an invitation to participate in a threesome as an opportunity to try to steal his witch away from him, and Lucius could not allow that to happen. He’d shared a witch with another wizard before, but she hadn’t meant all that much to him. But Hermione? Hermione was everything to him. The only other person who meant as much to him as his darling wife was his son. 

Draco.

As his sordid fantasies increased - and as he deftly deferred his wife’s inquiries - Lucius found his thoughts turning toward his only son and heir. His relationship with his son had faltered because of the war, and he’d gone to great lengths to make amends with Draco. For his part, Draco had weathered his parents’ divorce rather well, dryly commenting that he couldn’t exactly blame his mother for not wanting to have Sunday night dinners in the same dining room where the Dark Lord’s snake ate people. 

He’d enlisted Draco’s help to redecorate whole wings of the manor, tearing down rooms and engaging in more than one blood ritual with his son to cleanse the place of any lingering curses left from the war. He’d taken Draco’s advice regarding charitable donations and muggleborn-friendly causes that he should pursue to help redeem the family’s tattered reputation. 

It had all been going rather smashingly until Lucius had taken Hermione as his lover.

She’d sworn that time in his office was a one-off. He was determined it would be far more than that. They kept it discreet, Hermione insisting it was lunacy and half-convinced Lucius was only using her to bolster his own social standing, a suggestion that  _ did _ actually sound like something he’d do, except that no one knew they were fucking, which defeated the point of using someone for their reputation, as he’d told her in frustration. 

When he’d grown tired of their secrecy, he’d outed their relationship by kissing her at a fundraising gala, in full view of the Minister and everyone else. It was a grand, brave gesture he normally would not have made, preferring to work in the shadows, moving chess pieces around the proverbial board, but such things were necessary when pinning down a witch such as this one.

He’d understood his son’s anger over the revelation of his relationship, or so he’d thought. Granted, Hermione was Draco’s former classmate, and that was a bit unseemly, although certainly not without precedent in their family or in their world. He knew there was animosity between them that dated back to school experiences, but Lucius was certain they could get past it.

Father and son had shared a few uncomfortable dinners together with Hermione until it reached a boiling point, with Draco excoriating the both of them for their “unseemly” affair. Lucius had made it clear that his relationship with Hermione was not up for debate, and so when he put a ring on the witch’s finger (goblin-made, with an enormous emerald centre stone), Draco moved out of Malfoy Manor and into a townhouse in London. 

At first Lucius considered it an immature tantrum on the part of a spoiled young man who’d rarely been told “no” in his life. But then, as the wedding drew near, Lucius paid closer attention and realised to his surprise that his son carried a flame for the young future Mrs. Malfoy. It was clear in the way Draco watched her when he thought no one was looking, the way he even tried to talk Hermione out of the wedding, unaware their conversation had been overheard. 

Draco had never come right out and announced to Lucius his interest in the witch, but he had done his damnedest to get Lucius or Hermione to call off the wedding. The confirmation of his son’s attraction for Hermione though came when Draco finally pushed the witch too far regarding her relationship with Lucius, and Hermione blew up at him, accusing him of bigotry, of not wanting a “mudblood” to sully the family line. The hurt look on Draco’s face spoke volumes.

He had not confronted Draco directly, not wanting to cause further enmity. It had been a contentious and difficult year, with Hermione tearfully trying to end their relationship to preserve the relationship between father and son, and Lucius insisting that Draco would come round. He’d even gone out of his way to steer Draco toward the younger Greengrass girl, in the hopes that a spark of attraction there could somehow get Draco to let go of his attraction to his future stepmother.

Draco had fallen into a relationship with the Greengrass chit. Lucius married Hermione, with Draco scowling in the background during the small private ceremony. Whilst Draco tried to be discreet about his interest, Lucius could not help but notice at family gatherings that his son still watched Hermione with interest when given the opportunity. 

Lucius’s marriage to Hermione was one of the few times he’d been unwilling to give his son what he wanted. Draco’s relationship with Astoria had ended recently, and Lucius was convinced his son still carried a torch for Hermione. Lucius mulled the idea over in his head. Draco was one of the few people in this world Lucius genuinely trusted. He coveted his father’s wife, sure, but he also respected the boundary Lucius had set. Draco might be one of the only wizards Lucius could trust with Hermione. 

But could he do such a thing with his son? 

Lucius was an unrepentant hedonist, and there were few things he hadn’t tried - at least once - when it came to the pleasures of the flesh. He’d experimented a few times with wizards, enough to know that having bisexual males in your threesome could make for a much more exciting experience, but he had no desire to engage sexually with his own son. No, if he taught his lovely little wife how to orchestrate sin, it would strictly have to be about her enjoying the two of them. 

There was something undeniably compelling about the possibility of watching Hermione use her feminine wiles to lure an unsuspecting Draco into bed. Lucius had to wonder how his son would react. Would he attempt to resist her? Or would he give in straight away and indulge his own desires? Lucius had no doubt Draco would eventually succumb to Hermione, but what of his own presence? He was unsure whether his son had shared a witch before and how Draco might react to the notion.

And what of his wife? He’d questioned Hermione extensively before their marriage, even going so far as to suggest that perhaps she’d be better suited for Draco, given their ages. It was merely a test, for he had no intention of giving her up. She’d confessed that yes, of course, Draco was physically appealing, for he bore a strong resemblance to his father, and whilst hypothetically she might be attracted to him in a world where a relationship with Lucius had not happened, she was perfectly happy with their situation. No, she had no intention of leaving him for his son, and to suggest they were interchangeable wizards was highly insulting, she’d insisted as magic sparked around her and she pointed an angry finger at him. He’d allowed her to thoroughly chastise him for his impertinence in even suggesting such a thing before he’d torn off her knickers and dived face-first into her cunt, using his mouth and fingers to bring her off three times in repentance. 

He was reasonably confident Hermione would go along with the idea. They’d talked about it in theory, and she was intrigued by the idea, and she’d admitted she found Draco attractive. Draco wanted Hermione. Lucius wanted to indulge in a hedonistic fantasy. The more he thought about it, the more he decided it was the perfect solution.

~oOo~

“You want me to WHAT?”

The stunned look on Hermione Malfoy’s face and the shocked tone of her voice told Lucius that perhaps he should have eased his wife into his suggestion of a threesome with his son.

They were in the lounge just off the library, enjoying after dinner drinks when she’d pressed him  _ again _ about the orchestration of sin, and that was when he’d made his suggestion.

“I don’t know why you’re acting so shocked, darling. We’ve discussed all manner of sexual exploits and fantasies before, and as I recall, you were most taken with the idea of having two wizards to worship your decadent body,” he said with a casual sip of his whisky. 

“Well, yes, but it was all… hypothetical… and in any case, you don’t like to share, so I’m not sure why you’d even suggest such a thing! And.. and DRACO? Lucius, have you gone mad? He’s your  _ son _ ! You want us to have sex  _ with your son _ ?” She sputtered in surprise.

“You know, you constantly chastise me for my Slytherin nature, telling me that I should be direct with you, and then when I do take a page from your Gryffindor playbook and am direct, you stare at me as if I’ve grown another head,” he said petulantly.

She sputtered wordlessly for a moment before rubbing her hands across her face with a heavy sigh, for she had indeed done her level best over the course of their relationship to convince him to be direct with her and just tell her what he wanted.

“But…  _ Draco _ ?” she asked.

Lucius set his drink aside and leaned forward in his chair, his attention solely on his wife. 

“You’ve been a marvelous student, my love. Your submission in the bedroom is an unparalleled delight, and I could not be more proud of how you’ve risen to the occasion each and every time I suggest something new. We’ve fulfilled so many of your fantasies, and my own. A threesome is a logical next step.”

“Draco?” she repeated.

Lucius withheld his smirk at the knowledge that she seemed more concerned about the involvement of his son than she did with the overall notion of being shared with another wizard.

“Darling, there are very few people in this world I trust. Even fewer who I’d dare bring into our bed. Draco alone is perhaps the only wizard I’d trust to bring you that sort of pleasure, to jointly partake of your body.”

She frowned. “Yes, but he’s your  _ son _ , and it’s… it’s  _ sex _ .”

He laughed lightly at the adorable little wrinkle in her nose. “I am not suggesting anything incestuous. I have no interest in having sex with my son. I am suggesting him because I trust him, because I know he would be discreet and would not seek to harm either of us or to try to interfere in our marriage.”

She looked relieved at this pronouncement, and Lucius decided to press his luck.

“You haven’t said no. Shall I take that to mean you are considering it?”

“Honestly? I’m still trying to figure out how you coordinating a threesome with your son equals  _ me _ orchestrating sin.”

He threw his head back in laughter, unable to help himself. 

“Ahh, there’s my clever student! I want  _ you _ to seduce Draco. I’m not arranging anything - merely providing the suggestion of a safe partner.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Me? I… I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Mmmm. I doubt that.” 

He stood then and refilled her wine glass before taking a seat beside her on the sofa.

“You underestimate your own power,” he said quietly to her, reaching out to play with a lock of her curly hair.

“And you say lovely things about me because you want to get in my knickers,” she retorted, taking a sip of her wine.

“Oh, I don’t deny that. I always want in your knickers. You are a beautiful, brilliant, powerful witch.”

She bit her lip, and Lucius was reminded of just how inexperienced she was when they began their secret affair. Even asking her to do something like masturbate in front of him left her bright red in the face and stammering in embarrassment. It had amazed him then just how insecure she was in a lot of ways, given her intelligence. 

Lucius pulled her to his chest, wrapping an arm around her as he spoke quietly. 

“We’ve had such a marvelous time together, haven’t we?” 

She nodded and then looked up at him. “You aren’t unhappy, are you?”

He stroked her hair in a soothing motion, and she relaxed against him again. “Of course not. This suggestion was spurred more by your poem and the idea of teaching you to sin than anything else. I’m not sure what else there is for me to teach you. You’ve been such a voracious learner, such a dedicated pupil.”

He could feel her smile against him.

“This seemed like a logical next step: putting your powers of seduction to the test, spinning a web and drawing in your unsuspecting prey.”

“Spiders eat their prey, Lucius,” she snickered into his chest.

He released her from his hold and leaned back to look at her. 

“Fair enough. You have no idea what it does to me though - the fantasy of watching from the shadows, hidden from view, as you use your considerable feminine wiles to tempt him, to persuade him, until he cannot help but give in to you, until he’s desperate to kiss you, to touch you, to fuck your sweet cunt.”

Her eyes fluttered closed at his words, and he smiled to himself, knowing she got off on dirty talk. 

“I imagine watching you, in all of your magnificent glory, when he finally breaks, peeling off your clothes, you stripping him down.”

He knew from the slight uptick in her breathing that she was picturing it too. 

“Where are we? In our bed?” she whispered.

“Mmm… you’re the seductress, my love. You decide where we are. We could be in your beloved library if you like.”

Her eyelids opened again, and he gazed, transfixed by their warm depths. 

“Would you… would you just watch? Or join in?”

“Oh I’d just watch at first. You know how much I love to watch,” he said softly, reaching out to trail a fingertip down her cheek, her neck, and over her breast, watching the way her nipple puckered beneath the thin fabric of her bra and blouse.

“And then, when I was certain you’d drawn him in, when he was too far gone to even think of objecting, I’d join in. Perhaps I’d cup your breasts from behind and kiss your neck just the way you like.”

A soft moan slipped from her lips.

“We’d take our time with you. Maybe we’d bring you to the edge over and over again until you’re pleading for release, or maybe we’d see how many times we could make you come before we fuck you.” His own cock was already hard at the fantasy he was spinning for her.

“And you… you’d be okay with watching another man fuck me?” 

“Not just any other man, no. But Draco? Yes, I’d watch him fuck you. And before the night is over, we’d both fuck you together. Would you like that love? Being stretched and filled in both holes? Filled to the brim with Malfoy cock?”

She put her wine glass down on the table, and the next thing he knew, Hermione was in his lap, her lips pressed enthusiastically to his as she murmured, “Keep talking.”

~oOo~

Later that night, after they’d fucked on the sofa in the lounge before showering and retiring to bed, Hermione furrowed her brow in concern as she asked Lucius an all-important question.

“What makes you so convinced that Draco will go along with this idea of yours? Especially with YOU? I mean, you know you’re handsome, Lucius, but I don’t think you’re Draco’s type.”

“Impertinent little swot,” he muttered under his breath before he tickled her in response. She shrieked and giggled and writhed against him in the bed until he stopped tormenting her, and she collapsed against him, breathless.

“For the record,” he said, once they’d both regained their composure, “I am well aware that I am not Draco’s type. His type is petite brunette witches with wild curly hair and eyes like firewhisky and an insatiable desire for knowledge.”

Her eyes widened as she realised what he’d implied.

“You think I’M Draco’s type?”

“You’re brilliant, but you’re also not always willing to see yourself the way others see you, my love. Draco wants you.”

“He was opposed to our marriage!”

“Because he wanted you for himself. He objected most strenuously to our relationship, but never once did he say a single disparaging thing about you. I’ve watched him, and trust me when I say that he most definitely wants you. I have no doubt that were you to offer yourself to him, Draco would practically trip over himself to accept.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she retorted. “Besides, isn’t he with Astoria Greengrass?”

“Oh, you’ve just NOW decided to inquire about a significant other?” Lucius teased. 

Hermione blushed in response. Truthfully Lucius was surprised she’d not considered the Greengrass witch before then. Perhaps his wife secretly desired his son more than he’d realised. Lucius supposed he ought to feel conflicted about that, but instead he found it a bit of a turn on, as it certainly seemed to increase the odds that he could bring out Hermione’s inner sex kitten.

“For the record, Draco ended the relationship earlier this year,” he informed her.

“Are you certain?”

“Very. He said she was more frivolous than he’d realised and that she seemed more interested in marrying into the Malfoy Gringotts vaults than being with him.”

“Oh. That’s...unfortunate.” Hermione bit her lip, and Lucius could tell that with her bleeding heart, she felt sorry for Draco. 

He and Draco were both attractive wizards, and that combined with the family’s wealth meant there was rarely a shortage of witches interested in them. If he was entirely honest with himself, he had to admit that part of Hermione’s appeal for him was that she cared far more about him than she did his wealth. He dared to even hope that should he somehow find himself without two knuts to rub together, she’d still care for him.

“Yes, it is, although it’s not especially surprising. Pureblood witches are taught to look for a beneficial match.”

“That’s archaic and awful,” she said with a grimace and a wrinkle of her nose. 

“Mmm… well, it is what it is. Regardless, you needn’t worry yourself about Draco’s fidelity. He’s unattached and is free to do as he pleases.”

She shifted into his arms, resting her head on his chest and was quiet for a few moments.

“What are you thinking, my love?” he asked as he stroked her hair.

“You know what I’m thinking about, you slithering snake. You’ve put all sorts of deviant fantasies into my head, and you’re not even sorry about it,” she said with a light swat to his chest.

Lucius laughed and kissed the top of her head. “No, I’m not remotely repentant. Shall I consider your continued consideration of my proposal to be acceptance on your part?”

She lifted her head in the darkness of the room and looked at him. “No. You should not. I’ve not decided anything.”

“Mmm. Then I shan’t rush you regarding a decision.”

“Good.”

“Although…”

“Yes?”

“You did ask just the other day what I wanted for Christmas. I’d be delighted to accept this as a Christmas gift.”

The sound she made in response was most indelicate and unladylike. 

“That is quite possibly the most perverted present I’ve ever heard of.”

“Well, you have complained that it is impossible to shop for me. I am merely making a suggestion that would solve one dilemma for you whilst bringing us both tremendous pleasure. And I dare say, it would end up being a gift for you as well.”

“You’re a bad, bad man, Lucius Malfoy.”

He grinned in the darkness.

“Yes, and you love it.”

She sighed. 

“God help me, but yes, I do. And I’ll think about it. Go to sleep.”

~oOo~

Hermione wrapped up her business dinner ahead of schedule at La Maison Blanc, a posh French restaurant just off Diagon Alley, and her guests were departing. She’d spent all afternoon successfully negotiating a contract that would save the Ministry thousands of Galleons each month, and she’d concluded the supplier negotiations with a dinner. It had been weeks of hard work, and she was thrilled with the result. She’d hoped to rush home to share her good news with Lucius, but he’d already sent a message to her office just before dinner, letting her know he’d been held up in meetings in Switzerland and would not be back until much later. 

After saying her farewells to her dinner companions, Hermione visited the ladies’ room to freshen up. Lucius was always telling her how beautiful she was, but she wasn’t entirely certain the rest of the world saw what he did in her. She peered into the mirror, critically studying her reflection. His influence - and his money - had led to some changes in her style and physical appearance. Gone was the wild, bushy mane of hair she’d sported at Hogwarts, replaced by shiny, smooth curls. He’d also replaced her wardrobe of practical, serviceable skirts and blouses and dresses with attire more befitting a witch ready to take on the Ministry and the world. Today she was wearing a fitted robe akin to a muggle coat dress in charcoal grey with a matching sleeveless grey dress underneath that was tailored to fit her like a glove. They’d been through endless negotiations and meetings with tailors and dressmakers and even haute couture muggle fashion houses to build a wardrobe for her that was far too expensive for Hermione’s taste but that was elegantly simple, sleek and sophisticated, and commanded attention. 

She smoothed her hair, her thoughts wandering to Lucius and his suggestion of a seduction involving Draco. She’d been shocked at his suggestion, but now she couldn’t get it out of her mind. It had haunted her for the past two weeks, seeping into her thoughts at totally inappropriate times, like when she was alone in her office. Lucius, for his part, did not help matters by pushing a plug into her arse before fucking her or fingering her whilst she sucked his cock. His mimicry of a second partner, a second cock had her whimpering and ensured that his suggestion was never far from her mind. 

She’d planned to head home after her dinner meeting to seduce her husband, and she was thoroughly annoyed he’d been detained. Hermione left the restaurant with a sigh and paused as she stepped into the cold December air. There was no reason she had to go home just yet. She could always cast a warming charm and wander about Diagon Alley, perhaps doing a bit of Christmas shopping. She’d always loved seeing the shopping district decorated for Yule.

She only made it half a block before she stopped in her tracks at the sight of a familiar head of white blond hair. Yes, that was definitely Draco Malfoy, alone, headed into a pub called the Silver Sword. She immediately began walking toward him, before she could even give it proper consideration.

“What are you doing?” she whispered to herself. “He could be there on a date. Or with friends.”

And yet her feet carried her toward the heavy oak door and into the pub. She spotted him almost instantly, seated in a booth near the back, and debated whether or not to approach him. Any chance she had of backing out, of retreating back to the alley and innocently shopping for Christmas gifts ended the moment he lifted his head and saw her. His grey eyes connected with hers, widening at the sight of her, and Hermione knew she wouldn’t leave.

He stood as she approached, ever proper. 

“Mrs. Malfoy. Or should I call you mummy?” he asked innocently, a hint of a sneer in his voice.

She cringed internally, silently damning her husband for even suggesting they involved Draco in their sordid games. He certainly did not appear to be interested in her.

“Hello Draco. You should call me Hermione. May I join you?”

He sat down and gestured at the other side of the booth, even as he frowned at her. “Why? Father too busy to entertain you?”

“He was detained in Zurich, and I just finished a business dinner at La Maison Blanc and was going to do a bit of Christmas shopping when I saw you,” she said as she sat down across the table from him. 

Draco didn’t seem to have a sneering response to that and instead summoned a waitress. Hermione ordered a glass of merlot, Draco a pint. She looked around the pub as they placed their orders. She’d seen the signs for this place before but had never visited. It was nicer than the Leaky Cauldron, for sure, with dark wood paneled walls and distressed dark green leather that looked expensive rather than worn. Strategically placed lights cast a golden glow around the room that gave it a warm and cosy feel. It was definitely the sort of place that seemed to fit Draco - casual enough that he could relax but in a quiet and posh enough setting to keep out the riff raff. Oddly enough though, she had yet to spy a single sword in the place, silver or otherwise.

“I, um, I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” she said as the waitress left.

“Bit late to ask that, isn’t it? Since you’re already seated.”

She arched an eyebrow at him and he groaned.

“Merlin, don’t do that. You look far too much like my father when you do.”

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. “Do I really? I find that hard to believe. If anyone looks like your father here, it’s you.”

Draco grimaced. “He makes that face - that quirked eyebrow thing. Like he knows you’re holding something back and is just waiting for you to say something that will walk you straight into a trap you didn’t know he laid.”

It was such a perfect opening that she couldn’t help herself. Hermione leaned forward, closing the space between them. “And what are _ you _ holding back tonight?” she said in a low voice, automatically taking on a more seductive tone that she used with Lucius. 

She wasn’t entirely sure why she did it. Maybe it was a reflex - they were talking about Lucius, and Draco did bear a remarkable resemblance to his father at a younger age. She suspected though that Lucius’s words and his insistence that Draco wanted her were the primary driving force. 

Draco startled ever so slightly at her question and tone of voice, and she sat back in her seat, politely thanking the waitress who’d just returned with their drinks.

“I don’t know what to make of you, Granger,” he admitted, taking a sip of his beer.

“It’s Malfoy now, and whatever do you mean?”

He waved his hand in her direction. “All of it. The expensive robes, the new hair. The throaty voice thing you just did. It’s a far cry from the bushy-haired, big-toothed swot from school.”

She shrugged. “I grew up. We all did. Even you.”

Draco had indeed grown up. He’d always been an attractive boy, but he’d grown into a very handsome man. His features had filled in enough that he no longer had the lanky, pointy look of his school days. His hair was still the distinctive Malfoy blond, but he wore it short on the sides and just long enough on the top to really grab and hold onto. Hermione was silently shocked that her mind had gone there. Never once before had she imagined what it would feel like to run her hands through Draco’s hair - or tangle her fingers in it and tug sharply whilst he had his head between her legs, but such thoughts were now startlingly clear in her mind. 

She took a sip of her wine and exhaled slowly. It would not do to get wound up at a pub with Draco. 

“Yes, but surely you can admit that your appearance has changed quite a bit since you got involved with my father.”

A hint of a smile graced her face. “Is that your way of saying you find me attractive, Draco?”

A flush rose on his pale cheeks as he made a slightly strangled noise and took a long sip of his beer. 

Interesting, she thought to herself. Perhaps there was something to Lucius’s insistence after all. 

He took a long sip of his beer, his face sliding into a placid expression. She waited.

“It doesn’t matter what I think, now does it?” he said finally in response. “He’s the one who married you.”

She shrugged again. “Yes, I suppose you’re correct. He did marry me. I know you find it hard to believe, but I do love him, and he loves me.”

“His ideas of love are a bit twisted.”

“Maybe I like twisted.”

That drew him up short, and Hermione felt like he was studying her, looking at her in a way he hadn’t before.

“You?” he scoffed. “Potter’s golden girl? I find that hard to believe.”

She made a tsk-ing sound in response. “Please. The only person who thought I was Harry’s ‘golden girl’ was Rita Skeeter, and she got over that ages ago. Publicly involving myself with Lucius Malfoy - and then marrying him - pretty much tarnished my halo as far as some were concerned.”

“Tarnished halo? Careful, Granger - one might think you’re regretting tying yourself to a Death Eater.”

She smirked then. “Not at all. I happen to like being tied to - and by - your father.”

Draco made another strangled sound at the innuendo in her remark, and she found that she was rather pleased with herself at her newfound ability to leave him disconcerted and blushing. She felt… powerful. She knew she was a powerful witch, but this sort of power she’d not learned to properly wield before Lucius. She’d not really even known she’d had it. And she found that she rather liked it. 

An image flashed through her mind, just a hint of a fantasy, of Draco seated on the plush, deep sofa in the back of the library, with her standing over him, half-dressed, as he gazed up at her in a mix of desire and trepidation. Hidden below the table, Hermione squeezed her legs together and resisted the urge to squirm at the naughty thought.

“Don’t say things like that. I’d rather not sick up all over the table,” Draco said, disrupting her budding fantasy.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” she shot back. “We’re both adults, and I had to hear far too many tales of the Slytherin Prince’s ‘snake’ that last year at Hogwarts. If I can survive that, you can handle knowing that Lucius and I have sex.”

He grimaced. “That’s not even a fair comparison. It’s not like I was shagging your mother.”

“Thank god for that. You’re not really my mother’s type, by the way. She prefers studious dentists who are still a bit perplexed by the realities of magic,” she said with a laugh. Her parents, who had chosen to remain in Australia after the war, weren’t particularly keen on her marriage to a much-older wizard - and that was without the full knowledge of Lucius’s less-than-savoury past.

“Merlin. Change the subject please. I can’t handle anymore conversation about you shagging my father,” Draco said, rubbing his face in a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

“Spoilsport. Fine. What have you been doing these days?” she asked.

Draco launched into a conversation about his work with the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Hermione listened, nodding and interjecting when necessary. But mostly she watched him. 

Draco had inherited the Black family’s grey eyes, instead of his father’s blue eyes, and his face was narrower and his features more delicate than Lucius’s, but she had no doubt that in 20 years, he’d look remarkably like Lucius did now, especially if he wore his hair long. She couldn’t help but wonder if he resembled Lucius in other ways. Had the war left physical marks on Draco as it had Lucius? She knew he’d been cut by Harry’s use of the  _ sectumsempra _ curse in 6th year, and she wondered if he still bore scars from it and what it might feel like to trace them with her fingertips or her tongue. 

He ordered them a second round of drinks as talk about his work led to conversation about the Ministry and gossip about who was doing what. Hermione felt a bit flushed as she began to sip her second glass of wine - her fourth, really, if one counted the two glasses she’d had at dinner.

Eventually the conversation veered toward the Minister’s upcoming - and always dreadfully dull - holiday luncheon, which then led to talk about the Christmas holiday.

“So what is father getting you for Christmas? He usually gave mother jewels, but I can’t see that being your cup of tea,” Draco asked.

Hermione smiled as she glanced at the ostentatious ring on her finger. “No, it’s not. He had enough trouble getting me to accept the ring. I suspect my tastes are much simpler than your mother’s. To be honest, I’m not sure what he’s getting me. I don’t really need anything.”

“That’s not the point of gift-giving. It’s about doing something thoughtful for someone else and giving them something that makes them happy.”

“I hear those words coming out of your mouth, and it just does not fit with the spoiled git who tormented my friends at school.”

“Pretty sure we’ve already agreed we’ve both grown up. But really - if you don’t want him to spend an inordinate amount of Galleons on you, then you need to tell him what you want.”

This was sage advice, as Hermione had learned during the course of her relationship with Lucius. He was a generous lover and a generous wizard when it came to the people he loved. In addition to the new wardrobe, he was fond of surprising her with things like lingerie in fine silks and satins and lace, or opening tickets - box seats of course - to the opera or the ballet, or even to a muggle musical in London’s West End. She never had to wait for a special occasion to get a new book she wanted, for as soon as she mentioned it, it would find its way to the manor library, or Lucius would steer her toward a bookstore the next time they were out and about so she could pick it up in person. These were gifts he gave for no reason at all, other than a desire to see her smile. 

She’d protested extravagant gifts of jewelry early on after their relationship went public, only to learn that he thought nothing of whisking her off to an exotic locale for a birthday celebration or buying an expensive piece of artwork he thought she’d like. She’d attributed some of it to Lucius’s desire to live life to the fullest after surviving two wars, but she’d learned from Draco that he’d always been like that. It certainly had given her more insight into how Draco had ended up so spoiled as a child.

Hermione bit her lip. “Yes, you’re right, of course. He does tend to go overboard at times. I haven’t decided on anything to ask him for as a Christmas gift, and I haven’t decided what to get for him either.”

Draco shrugged. “It’s impossible to shop for him. If he wants something, he buys it. What do you get the wizard who has everything?”

She felt her face flush at Lucius’s suggestion of just what he might want for Christmas. She was beginning to think it might be just as much a gift for her as it would be for him.

“What’s  _ that  _ look for?”

Hermione startled at Draco’s pointed question. “I, um… nothing.”

“Didn’t look like ‘nothing.’”

“Well, you asked what you get the wizard who has everything, and, well…”

“Yes?”

“He had some colourful suggestions.”

Draco was still, and she could see the exact moment he realised what she’d been thinking. His face turned red, and he dropped his head into his hands.

“Fuck, Granger. You’re killing me. I don’t want to have to hear about all of the kinky sex my father gets to have with his wife who happens to be my age.”

“Well, you did sort of lead me there.”

“No one leads you anywhere you don’t want to go. It’s actually one of your more admirable qualities.”

“Careful,” she teased. “I might think you’re starting to like me.”

He looked almost wistful for a second as he fiddled with his glass. 

“I never… I mean, our early years at school and the war aside, I didn’t dislike you, especially not as an adult,” he said quietly. “You’ve got a lot of admirable qualities. Enough, in fact, that I’m still unclear how you ended up with Lucius Malfoy.”

“You aren’t going to start on that again, are you? About how horrible you think it is that Lucius married me?”

He sighed.

“No, I won’t. I… it’s just fucking weird, you know?”

She waited for a response.

“I mean, you’re my age. We went to school together. We were on opposite sides of a war. I never would have thought you’d end up with my father, especially not after everything he spewed about pureblood supremacy and pure bloodlines and all that rot.”

Draco had moved out of Malfoy Manor shortly after she’d moved in, and in their interactions following the wedding, he’d been cordial and polite but distant. This was turning out to be one of the better conversations she’d ever had with him.

Hermione considered her words carefully. 

“Looking at it from your perspective - which I admit I tried very hard NOT to do leading up to my wedding because I thought you were being a brat - I can see how the relationship must have come as a tremendous shock to you. It must have felt like he’d told you to do one thing your entire life and then gone and done the exact opposite himself.”

“He’s hypocritical as fuck,” Draco mumbled into his glass as he took a sip of beer.

“Yes, well, I suppose that’s fair. I’m very glad he chose to be a hypocrite instead of sticking with such a bigoted point of view. But I am sorry that you had your world turned upside down like that in such a disconcerting manner.” 

“But you’re not sorry you married him.”

“No, no I’m not. I love him. I know we’re an absurdly unlikely couple. I know most of the wizarding world is still shocked and confused by our marriage. Our relationship probably doesn’t make sense to anyone but us.”

An almost resigned look crossed his face then.

“I know you don’t really give a toss about popularity, but you were the golden girl after the war. You could have done anything, gone anywhere you liked in Britain, had any wizard you wanted. Had you given any indication that you were willing and open to being courted, you could have had all of the country’s most eligible wizards lining up for you. Wizards much closer to you in age, you know.”

She wondered if Draco silently included himself in that theoretical list of wizards who would have courted her. 

“Hmm. I think you’re exaggerating. Lucius does that too, by the way. He says nice things because he wants me to feel good about myself, but I’m not under any illusions about the messages I sent out to the eligible wizards of the UK before he and I ended up together. There wasn’t a lot about me that screamed ‘approachable.’”

Draco frowned. “Well, I mean, your hair really WAS unfortunate before father got ahold of it, and he did wonders for your wardrobe, but the rest of it’s all true. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me,” she observed.

He blushed again, and she decided that she liked the way he looked with a flush to his cheeks.

“Don’t get used to it. Wouldn’t want to send your ego to Malfoy-level heights. Between you and father, someone needs to be at least semi-practical.”

“Don’t worry,” she said with a laugh. “I’m not sure there’s anything you could say that would send my ego into the stratosphere with Lucius’s.”

He mumbled something into his drink then that she thought sounded like, “You might be surprised.”

“Speaking of eligible wizards,” she said slowly as she toyed with one of her curls, “Lucius told me that you and Astoria broke up. When did that happen?”

In Hermione’s limited experience, dealing mostly with Harry and Ron, wizards weren’t typically keen to talk about failed relationships, but Draco seemed a little bit relieved at the shift in conversation.

“It’s been some time. Why? What did father say?”

“Just that Astoria was frivolous and very interested in your Gringotts vault.”

He grimaced. “Yes, that’s the right of it.” 

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out. You seemed like you made a lovely couple.”

“Looks are deceiving sometimes. My mother was rather put out with me. I think she was hoping I’d settle down and produce a grandchild for her to dote on.”

“Well, regardless of what your mother thinks, if Astoria wasn’t the right witch for you, I’m glad you ended it.”

He smirked at her briefly. “I told mother I couldn’t possibly be a father anytime soon. It would be  _ far  _ too awkward for me to have children before Lucius gets you up the duff. I’d hate for my future son to have an uncle or an aunt younger than he is.”

Hermione buried her face in her hands with a groan. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“And here I was feeling sorry for you.”

“Pfft. That was your first mistake. You’d think you’d know better by now. It was worth it though - it got mother off my case about Astoria.”

Since her relationship with Lucius had become public knowledge, Hermione had been subjected to all manner of rumours and innuendo that she’d gotten pregnant in order to trap the notoriously traditional Malfoy patriarch into marriage. Every few months, gossip columnists would speculate on when “the new Madam Malfoy” would announce “a bundle of joy.” She considered such speculation regarding the contents - or lack thereof - of her uterus to be the height of bad taste, especially since she was nowhere ready to have children.

“If your mother has to wait until I have a child for you to become a father, she’s going to be waiting a long time,” she said stiffly. “I fail to see why wizards and witches who live significantly longer than their muggle counterparts put such stock in having families at such young ages.”

“Spare me the lecture - I agree with you,” he said with a wave of his hand.

“Good.” 

It wasn’t that she didn’t like children or even that she didn’t want them. It was certainly an option, but only in the distant future. She’d been forced to grow up far too fast, and it was only when she began her illicit affair with Lucius that she really felt as if she’d been given the freedom to be wild and careless and to live her life as she damn well pleased. Now, as she sat across the table from Draco, it occurred to her that he probably felt the same way, only he’d not found someone who filled the role Lucius did for her - someone who could make him feel alive and free. 

Draco’s hand was on the table, and she reached for it then, without even thinking, and clasped it in her own. He had elegant, slender fingers that made her think of a pianist’s hands. His hand was warm, and he stiffened at first but then she felt him grasp her hand back. It was the first time she’d held his hand in her own, and it seemed monumental somehow.

She looked up at him then, at the surprise on his face at her gesture. 

“Draco, despite your sarcasm and bitter wit, and your lengthy history of being a spoiled git of a child, you are a brilliant, successful, and - at the risk of inflating your ego further - incredibly handsome man. You have so much to offer a woman, and you should never feel that you have to settle for anyone less than someone who understands you and loves you for exactly who you are. You deserve happiness, and I hope that you find someone who is truly perfect for you.”

He stared at her in awe for a long moment, as if he couldn’t believe the words she was saying or that her hand was clasped in his own. She hoped she’d not overstepped her boundaries with him by offering a genuine wish of happiness for him.

“Granger?” he asked in an almost breathless voice.

“Yes?”

“Are you drunk?”

“WHAT?” She jerked her hand back from his then as he squinted at her for a moment and then sat back against the back of the booth.

“I know I’M not drunk because I’ve only had two drinks. So that must mean that you’re drunk. I’m pretty sure at least one of us is drunk because this seems like a profound conversation for us to be having sober.”

She glared at him across the table. “I am not drunk, you… you…  _ wanker _ !” 

He laughed at her insult. “Are you sure?”

“Are you mocking me now? I try to be NICE to you, and you mock me?”

He reached over then and placed his hand over hers, and she felt a shiver go down her spine at his touch. She looked at his hand, the way it dwarfed hers in size and covered the emerald and diamond ring on her finger, and then at him. He had a sincere look on his face that did funny things to her insides.

“I’m not mocking you. Truly - this has been one of the nicest conversations I think we’ve ever had. I don’t know that I deserve your concern, but I appreciate it, more than you can possibly know.”

She smiled at him, and he smiled back, sort of. His thumb moved back and forth slowly, brushing hers, and such a simple touch should not have felt that good. 

She looked down at their joined hands again and then back at Draco. 

There was a shift in him then, as if he’d realised he was thinking something he perhaps ought not to be thinking, and he sat up straight and pulled his hand back from hers.

“Right then,” he said with some sense of finality. “It’s late, and you should go home. Knowing father, he’ll have taken the first portkey back and may be waiting for you already.”

“Yes, you’re probably right,” she said, offering him a smile of agreement. 

She watched as he tossed a few Galleons onto the table to pay for their drinks and then stood, adjusting his robes before he held a hand out to her.

It was a polite gesture, one she’d seen Lucius make repeatedly over the course of their relationship, but it felt charged as Draco helped her up from the booth. 

They were both silent as he walked with her out the door, and she could feel the ghost of a hand hovering at her lower back. 

“There’s, ah, there’s an apparition point just around the corner,” he said, gesturing to the end of the street. “I’ll walk you there.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, and it was her turn to marvel at just how Malfoy-esque a gesture it really was. 

“My parents, multiple governesses, and an absurdly strict house elf raised me better than that,” he said lightly, steering her away from the pub.

“I’m going to have to ask Lucius about this house elf. I find it hard to believe he turned over the raising of his heir to an elf.”

“You should. Her name was Biddy, and she was ancient. She cared for generations of Malfoys. Used to smack my hands with a wooden spoon when I got into the biscuits and sweets in the kitchen.”

“Lucius has never once mentioned a Biddy.”

“She died before I went to Hogwarts.”

“I think you’re making this up.”

“I might be.”

“Draco!” she swatted at his upper arm as they walked, the streets surprisingly empty, even for a Tuesday night.

He laughed at her outrage. “You know, I’ve just now realised that I’ve missed out on a golden opportunity to tell you all manner of sordid tales about my childhood.”

“Well now I know not to believe anything you tell me about your childhood!"

“I’m sure I could come up with all sorts of stories I could tell you about my father,” he said in a taunting voice.

“I could also give you a list of all the places in the manor where I’ve had sex with your father.”

He stopped short.

“That’s cold, Granger. I’m simultaneously disgusted and impressed with your comeback. You’d have made a decent Slytherin.”

She turned to look at him. “Is that high praise, coming from you?”

He gazed at her for a moment and then his lips twisted in a bit of a smile. “It’s up there.”

They stopped at the apparition point, which was tucked into a quiet alcove away from the street. 

“Ladies first?” he offered.

“Sure. Thank you for letting me join you and for the drinks,” she said, smiling brightly at him.

A slight, wistful smile graced his face. “I’m still not okay with all… you know…” he said, gesturing aimlessly in what she assumed was a reference to her marriage to his father.

“I know. But I still had a lovely time.”

Acting on impulse, she stepped closer and threw her arms around his neck in a hug. She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d done it - their relationship had never been one that progressed to such intimate touches. Even grasping his hand in the pub felt monumental, but something compelled her to push the limit, to get closer to him and see what he would do. 

She pressed her body to his and inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of his cologne. He did not smell like Lucius, but they were similarly built, and there was something that felt familiar about being close to him like this. 

For his part, Draco froze when she hugged him, and she felt him tense against her, and for a brief moment she thought he might even push her away. Yet after another moment, she felt him relax and his arms went around her. And then they tightened, and Hermione found herself pressed fully against him, and to her surprise,  _ she liked it _ . 

He wasn’t Lucius. 

He lacked the same commanding presence and voice that never failed to make her knickers wet, and he wasn’t as broad shouldered, but she liked the way she fit into his arms. She liked the hardness of his chest against hers and the feel of his breath in her hair. One of his hands splayed across her lower back in a way that made her feel almost cherished, despite their past animosity.

She allowed him to hold her for a peaceful few moments and then leaned back so she could gaze up at him, her arms still around his neck. He looked down at her, and she was struck by how intense and striking his grey eyes were up close. 

Would he kiss her? Did she want him to? Should she kiss him? Jumbled thoughts whirled in her head.

Hermione felt his hand move on her lower back, and in response, she stroked the back of his neck and the soft, fine blond hair at the back of his head. There was a connection there, something… perhaps not as explosive as her chemistry with Lucius, but it was there, and she felt a frisson of desire and a need to know more.

He moved closer to her, close enough that she could almost feel his breath on her lips. She stood still, curious to see what he’d do, even as she wanted to feel his kiss, to know how he compared to Lucius. 

His eyes fluttered closed then, and when they opened again, something had changed, shifted somehow, inside of him. Draco moved his hands to her upper arms and pushed his arms out as he stepped back from her, creating a distance between them that seemed almost gaping compared to how close they’d been.

Hermione felt like she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs and didn’t realise until then that he’d damn near left her breathless and hadn’t even kissed her.

“You should go, Granger, before I do or say something I can’t take back,” he said gruffly.

She met his eyes, and she could sense a steely reserve battling with an all-too-human desire. Yes, he wanted her. He definitely wanted her, but he appeared to consider her off-limits by virtue of her marriage to his father. 

“I hope to see you again soon, Draco,” she said sincerely before she palmed her wand and disapparated, leaving him and Diagon Alley behind in a blur. 

~oOo~

Lucius was still absent when Hermione returned home, breathless and more than a little bit turned on following her encounter with Draco. By the time he arrived later that night, dusting the floo powder and soot from his otherwise pristine black robes, she’d worked herself into quite a state as her mind supplied a host of sordid fantasies.

“Well, isn’t this a lovely greeting,” Lucius murmured as pushed her chest against him, clad only in a peacock blue silk chemise and his own favourite black dressing gown. “Perhaps I should leave town more often.” 

“Shut up and take off your clothes,” she mumbled against his lips as she shoved his outer robes off his broad shoulders.

He laughed before sweeping her into his arms for a lengthy kiss. 

“You are a wonder! Now tell me, what has you in such a state, hmmm?” he asked as he half-carried her to the parlour sofa. 

He laid her out on the soft velvet, hovering over her as her nimble fingers pried loose his belt and worked the fastenings of his trousers. 

“Did you sign the deal with the suppliers?” he asked before dipping his head to her neck and licking a sensual trail from ear to clavicle and back. 

Hermione slipped her hand into his trousers and grasped his cock through his pants. He was half-hard already, and she stroked him eagerly, already too worked up to wait long for him to satisfy her.

“I did, but business doesn’t really turn me on the way it does you.”

“Cheeky witch,” he said, punctuating his words with a nip at her neck. 

“I saw Draco tonight.”

Lucius paused and then lifted his head to gaze down at her. Hermione met his steady gaze and then squeezed his cock again through his pants, liking the stuttered breath he pushed out as he maintained eye contact. 

“Did you?” 

He sat back then, one knee on the sofa, one foot on the floor, as he nonchalantly began to undress. She lay motionless before him, only the barest bit of silk from her chemise covered her from his burning stare. 

“And how did that come about?”

“I ran into him, after dinner. We had drinks. Talked about you. I may have included some sexual innuendo and offered to share a list of all the places we’ve fucked in this giant monstrosity you call a house.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow, and Hermione stifled a giggle at how similar father and son looked when they both made that face. 

He unfastened his waistcoat and tie, shrugging off both of them, and removed the cuff links from his sleeves. She resisted the urge to moan and touch herself, for the sight of Lucius Malfoy indulgently, calmly removing his clothing while his unfastened trousers were tented by that magnificent cock never failed to turn her on. 

“And dare I ask what his reaction was to that, my love?”

She shifted on the sofa, spreading her legs wider for him and revealing her lack of undergarments. She smiled at his sharp intake of breath and the quiet groan of his exhale and trailed her fingertips up and down her thigh, inching the chemise higher as she moved.

“Mmmm…he’s not keen on picturing you having sex with me, since you’re his father.”

“But?” he prompted, pulling off his shirt.

“You’re right - he’s interested in me.”

Hermione watched a brief flicker of jealousy on her husband’s face, and she realised then that instead of being concerned by it, she found it a bit of a turn-on. They’d played so many scintillating sexual games, but never involving others before, both of them always so careful to protect her career and reputation. But now it occurred to her that she’d been missing out on so many wonderful possibilities. The idea of innocently flirting with a stranger as Lucius watched, his jealousy building until he could no longer stand it, until he dragged her away and fucked her hard in a semi-public location where anyone might stumble upon them now seemed like a fantasy she just  _ had _ to fulfill. 

Lucius seemed to be of like mind, for his voice filled her ears, wanting - no  _ demanding _ \- to know more.

“Did he touch you, darling? Whisper sweet nothings in your ear as he palmed your perfect little arse? Or did he leer at you? Look at your tits and not your face whilst talking to you?”

Hermione whined and arched her back. She’d been worked up since arriving at home, and now Lucius was drawing out her agony, teasing her with his dirty words and suggestive thoughts that conjured all manner of lewd visions. The moment with Draco at the apparition point, the way he held her and gazed at her, the way his eyes flicked to her lips before he wrenched himself away from her...she could suddenly picture him kissing her, winding his fingers through her hair and moving her backwards into the shadows of the alley, pressing her body against the cold stone wall as his hands slipped beneath her dress. She could imagine him fucking her, hard and fast, against the wall, his cock pounding into her and his breath hot on her cheek. 

Her hand automatically slipped between her legs, her index and middle fingers sliding through her wet folds and then zeroing in on her clitoris. She moaned, lost in her fantasy of Draco fucking her and calling her ‘Granger’ as he whispered of the dirtiness and wrongness of their act. 

“Yes, touch yourself for me. Are you thinking of him as you do it my love?”

Hermione’s fingers moved faster, almost of their own accord as she nodded at her husband. 

“Look at you - you’re practically dripping.”

“Lucius, please!” she whined.

“What is it you want?”

“Fuck me. Please.”

“So needy.” 

His voice was slow and seductive, and though she normally loved it when he took that tone with her, tonight she was impatient and beyond ready to come.

“I’ve been here, all alone, waiting for you to come home,” she whined.

“And did you touch yourself then? Fill your pink cunt with your fingers and think about me?” he asked. 

He moved to toe off his shoes, and Hermione wanted to scream in frustration. He could leave all his clothes on as far as she was concerned as long as she had access to his cock. 

“No,” she whimpered.

“No? Did you think about Draco as you fingered yourself and rubbed your clit?” 

She shook her head as her hips bucked in response to the movements of her hand. “Didn’t touch myself. Waited for you,” she pushed out in a breathless voice. 

His gaze darkened, and she knew she’d said exactly the right thing. In a flash, Lucius’s hand was around her wrist, dragging her hand away from her tingling clit. Hermione moaned when he brought her fingers to his lips and sucked them one by one into his mouth. 

“Lucius, please just fuck me,” she pleaded.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, kissing her fingertips.

He pinned her hands above her head, his grip on her wrists tight enough to be just shy of painful, and then he was inside of her, his long cock filling and stretching her, and Hermione arched her back and clenched around him. He was not gentle, nor was he patient. He fucked her hard and fast, drawing whimpers and moans from her as she wrapped her legs around him and lifted her hips to match his thrusts. 

Oh god yes, this,  _ this _ was what she’d needed since she’d returned home from drinks with Draco. 

“Harder,” she gasped. 

Perhaps there was some part of her that wanted to be taken harshly and punished for the very improper thoughts she’d had about her stepson. Although to be fair, a good, hard fuck wasn’t really  _ punishment _ .

Lucius slammed into her, making her moan. He clasped both of her wrists in one large hand then, using the other to pinch her nipple hard enough to draw a shriek from her.

“Such a naughty, wanton little slut aren’t you?” he murmured in her ear. “Your cunt dripping all over the sofa from thinking about Draco.”

“Yesss,” she hissed out, wriggling her fingers in his grasp, wishing her hands were free to tug at his hair and dig her nails into the pale perfect skin of his back.

Fantasy merged with reality then, and for the first time, Hermione thought about another man whilst being fucked by her husband. Suddenly in her mind, it was not Lucius’s hand restraining her but Draco’s, and he was leering at her, watching the wet slide of a cock in her quivering pussy. In her mind it was Draco reaching down to pinch her nipple hard enough to feel like it had been clamped - and she wished she could feel that sensation on both breasts. 

Hermione looked up at her husband, at the spark in his pale blue eyes, and she knew that her admission of her fantasies had been as much a turn on for him as it had for her. Lucius had always been dominant and domineering, and she loved submitting to his decadent commands, but even more than that, she loved it when she could make him lose his precious control. There were few things she loved more than Lucius when he was carried away, his hair mussed and his proverbial feathers ruffled.

And tonight Hermione was going to push him over the edge.

“Tell me. What did you picture him doing to you?” he demanded as he drove his cock into her.

She arched into him, twisting her wrists in his grip. 

“Making me kneel. Filling my mouth with his cock as he pulled at my hair. Fucking my face as he called me his filthy whore, a dirty little cumslut,” she pushed out.

Lucius groaned above her, and she knew he was picturing it. 

“Spreading me out on the floor, on the rug, as you watch from the sofa. Fingering my cunt and telling you how wet I am.”

“Dripping,” he said, his voice strained.

“And then fucking me. Filling me. Taking me from behind so I have to face you. So you can watch my face as he fucks me. Spanks me.”

Lucius bent one of her legs up almost to her chest, and she almost came right then as his cock stroked her g-spot.

“More,” he commanded, and she knew he was close. His hair brushed her breasts with each thrust, and he looked ready to come undone.

“Making me come all over his cock before you join us.”

“What do I do?” he gritted out, nearly breathless.

“Slide your cock in my throat and pinch my nipples and tell me what I good,  _ good _ girl I am.”

She’d begun to tell him this fantasy as a means of making him lose control, but Hermione found herself at the precipice as well. She could see it so vividly, could almost hear Draco’s drawling voice in her ears. 

“Gonna come,” she pushed out. 

“Not yet. What then?” he demanded.

She undulated beneath him, caught between fantasy and reality. 

“You both fill me. Two cocks. One in my cunt and one in my arse.”

“Full of Malfoy cock.” 

“Overflowing.”

He hissed out a long, low ‘yes,’ as his cock throbbed and spurted inside of her, and Hermione was pushed over the edge as well, coming with him until they both lay breathless on the sofa, Lucius’s weight pressing down on her deliciously as his breath tickled her neck. 

She looked over his shoulder to the doorway and imagined Draco there, imagined that he had sneaked into the manor after their impromptu meeting at the pub and watched as she’d practically climbed Lucius as soon as he stepped through the floo, watched as he’d thrown her onto the sofa, watched as she’d touched herself and then as Lucius had fucked her. She imagined that Draco had listened to their entire sordid conversation, fisting his own cock as he watched her come. Her cunt clenched involuntarily around her husband’s softening cock at the very thought.

Lucius groaned in response and then lifted his head to gaze at her.

“You have the most splendid, deviant fantasies, my darling. But I wonder…”

“Yes?”

“Do you really have it in you to go through with it? Is the student prepared to become the teacher? To lead another into our bed?”

Her eyes met his, and she found no mocking, no hint of reprisal or doubt in his beautiful blue eyes. God, how she loved this man. 

“I want to do it.”


	3. Chapter 3

#  Chapter 3

Lucius questioned Hermione the following morning about her intentions, offering her a discreet ‘out’ if she panicked and wanted to renege on an offer made in the heat of passion. Hermione adored him for that, but she had no intention of reneging. After he’d drifted off to sleep that night, she’d lain awake beside him, contemplating the possibilities and wondering what it would be like. Was Draco dominant like Lucius? Would he be rough? Gentle? What would it be like to be filled fully by two men? Lucius had stirred her curiosity, and now she very much wanted this experience.

To her consternation, Lucius had offered no further commentary on the Draco situation. No mention of Draco visiting the manor was forthcoming. No suggestions were made about when they might pursue this deviant experience. The lack of information drove Hermione crazy, and she finally snapped during a peaceful but chilly walk about the manor grounds with her husband.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what the plan is?” she prompted.

“Plan? For what?” he asked nonchalantly, tapping his snake-headed cane on the ground as he walked. 

“You know what.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

She stopped walking and glared at him in annoyance. “Yes, you do. You, me, Draco? The perverted present you wanted? Ring a bell?”

He faced her, a smirk on his face before he made a tsk-ing sound. 

“I do believe the goal was to orchestrate sin. I am but a player. You, my darling, are the conductor.” 

She opened her mouth to reply but was unsure of what to say.

Lucius waited to see if she would speak before he continued.

“If you require my assistance in arranging anything, please inform me. Otherwise, I shall trust that you have the matter under control.”

“You want me to plan everything?”

“Of course. This is your seduction. You decide when, where, how. I put myself in your willing hands.”

Lucius did not give up control easily, so this carte blanche to plan the entire sordid affair was certainly unusual. He was also the more creative and ostentatious of the two of them, so that made his submission to her whims even more remarkable since he knew whatever she planned would be nowhere near as elaborate as anything of his orchestration.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll do something horrid like rent a hotel room with cheap, low thread-count sheets?” she teased as they resumed their walk.

He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I should hope after all this time that I’ve had _ some  _ positive influence on your appreciation for the finer things in life.”

“But you did say it’s ALL up to me, right?” 

“Within reason,” he clarified with a frown. “Obviously anything that risks your reputation or Draco’s is unacceptable, but you know that.”

“But I could, say… arrange a role-play scenario in which I’m the Head Girl at Hogwarts, and you’re my naughty students in need of discipline?”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “I suppose, if that is what you desire, although I much prefer the naughty schoolgirl fantasies myself.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said with a smirk of her own. “I think you and Draco would both look splendid in Gryffindor uniforms.”

The look of outrage on Lucius’s face was so comical she couldn’t help but laugh.

“I think a certain cheeky little witch is in need of a spanking,” he said sternly.

Hermione grinned. Now  _ this  _ was a familiar game.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” she said as she took off in a sprint back toward the manor. She had a seduction to plan.

~oOo~

  
  


He was fucked. Absolutely and totally fucked. 

Draco Malfoy drained his glass of wine and tried to look anywhere but at his stepmother, a tough feat since she was seated across from him in the manor dining room for their traditional Christmas Eve dinner.

His family had always been such sticklers for tradition. Or at least they had been until Lucius bucked what Draco had thought was the most sacred of all Malfoy traditions and married a muggleborn. Not that Draco wanted to beat the proverbial dead horse that was his father’s marriage, but it was hard to think about anything but that given what had happened the last time he’d spent time with Granger. Er, Hermione. He was trying hard to think of her as Hermione, and not Granger since that technically wasn’t her last name these days, although being on a first name basis with her only made the situation more complicated.

Bumping into her had been a surprise, and drinks and conversation with her had been downright shocking. She’d been… well, strangely flirtatious, although he’d tried very, very hard to ignore that. 

It was bad enough that he’d nurtured a serious and secret crush on her for years. Then she’d had to go and involve herself with his _ father, _ of all people. It had been devastating to know that there was a chance she could have been his if only he’d worked up the courage to ask her out before his father got there and staked his claim.

Sitting across the table from her that night in the pub as she delicately fingered her wine glass and hinted most indiscreetly about what sounded like an active - and kinky - sex life with Lucius was torture. Or at least, he’d thought it was torturous then. 

That was before he showed up for Christmas.

The traditional Malfoy Christmas celebration included a proper 10 course meal, consumed whilst dressed in their finest on Christmas Eve. They would then retire to the parlor for pudding and drinks. At some point, everyone would drift off to bed before congregating the next morning around the Christmas tree to open presents and then enjoy a leisurely brunch. He dutifully attended Christmas Eve dinner every year, departing after brunch on Christmas morning to spend the rest of the holiday with his mother. 

Draco showed up for Christmas this year, as usual. He dropped his bag and his gifts for his father and stepmother in the hands of their trusted - and paid - elf Whipple, as usual. He retired to his childhood bedroom to dress for dinner in formal black dress robes, as usual. He made his way to the dining room, as usual.

What was unusual was the sight of Hermione Granger - no, Malfoy - alone in the dining room, dressed in the single most scandalous thing he’d ever seen on a witch outside of a sexual encounter.

“Oh, hello, Draco! Happy Christmas!” she’d said brightly as she’d considered several bottles of wine, looking over the labels of them all.

He’d sputtered wordlessly for a moment before he’d managed to gain his composure and rasp out a “Happy Christmas” in return.

“You look, um...impressive. Is that, ah, a muggle dress?” he asked.

“It is. What do you think?”

She put the bottle down and did a little spin for him. 

_ I think my cock is standing at attention now, that’s what I think. _

Her dress was blood red satin and looked as if it had been painted on her. Tiny, delicate straps held up a bodice that revealed far more cleavage than it covered. Satin skimmed over her body, fitted to her like a glove, until it flared out gently at mid-thigh. He nearly choked when she spun around, for the dress bared her entire back, all the way down past the gentle curve of her waist. When she spun, the flare of her long skirt lifted just enough to reveal very high, spindly heels with delicate straps that wrapped around her ankles. 

Her hair had been tamed into soft waves and clipped up, leaving her neck exposed save for a few soft tendrils. She did not appear to be wearing any jewelry, save for the engagement ring and wedding band she was never without. Most witches would have taken full advantage of the family vaults filled with priceless gems, but Hermione did not, and he found the absence of such jewelry made her seem even more undressed - and he liked it.

It had been hard enough to restrain himself at the pub, when she’d been dressed like a respectable pureblood witch in expensive and demure robes, especially when she’d leaned in so unexpectedly to hug him. He was not, by nature, a hugger, but the feel of Hermione’s slender body pressed against his own… he’d been sorely tempted to kiss her, just to see what she’d do. 

She was playing with fire, this witch, and Draco was utterly perplexed by it. She had most certainly flirted with him that night, but why? Surely she had to know that no matter how much he desired her - and he did, very much so - she was his father’s wife and that was a line he was not going to cross.

And now here she was, on Christmas Eve, looking like sex personified, right down to the cherry red lipstick on her perfect, pouty lips.

She’d looked at him expectantly, and Draco had forced a smile and said, “You look, ah, lovely. That’s quite a dress.”

She’d looked almost crestfallen at his lack of enthusiasm, and he was thankful she couldn’t see his hard-on through his robes.

Her smile brightened then, and she’d crossed the room to him, arms out as if to hug him. He stepped back, not wanting her to embrace him and realise just how happy his dick was to see her, so she settled for smoothing his robes and straightening his tie, not that it was crooked.

“You always look so dashing in formal dress robes. Would you like a glass of wine?” she asked in a sultry voice. 

That was at least 14 hours ago, or so it felt to Draco and his unhappy bollocks, which had not gotten the message that the only action they were going to get was his palm and five fingers whenever this Merlin-forsaken Christmas celebration ended. 

Dinner seemed to plod along at a torturous pace, and Draco was convinced his father had gone half-senile, for surely he had to notice his wife’s blatant flirting over the endless 10 courses of their meal. Particularly given that the witch in question was flirting with her stepson and not her husband. Yet Lucius said not a word about it. He did not even look askance at his wife.

She’d looked at Draco coyly, her big dark eyes all wide and innocent. She’d traced her fingers along the edge of the red satin that barely covered her breasts. She’d licked her lips, more than once. She’d shifted in her seat enough that he was tempted to ask if someone had put an itching hex on her knickers. 

The entire thing was surreal, made even more so by his father’s refusal to even acknowledge Hermione’s outrageous behavior. Was she deliberately trying to anger him? Were they fighting? Was the marriage on the rocks? Was that why she’d sought him out that night, why she’d flirted with him? If their most unholy union was disintegrating, just how long did he have to wait before making his own attempt to seduce her? Or was an ex-stepmother permanently off-limits?

His dick lurched at the thought of a free Hermione and his mind wandered off into fantasies of ripping those delicate straps on her dress and bending her over the table, mindless of their half-eaten meal. 

He participated in the conversation when prompted, proud of himself for managing to even halfway follow what was being said, considering that Hermione’s tits were half-out in front of him. He drank far too much wine in an attempt to make it through the meal without losing his mind. He’d never been more thankful to see his father rise from the table and announce that they would be enjoying the final course and drinks in the library. 

Draco took advantage of the change in location to lock himself in the nearest bathroom and throw up a silencing spell. His dick and bollocks ached, and whilst he acknowledged that it was indeed poor form to not be able to get through dinner without needing to rub one out over the toilet, it simply could not be helped tonight. It was a relief to loosen his trousers and take his cock in hand. His own touch wasn’t what he wanted, but it would have to do. 

He quickly lost himself in a fantasy where Granger wore that slinky, sexy red dress just for him. He imagined standing behind her, pinning her hips to the table as he cupped her breasts, lifting them free from the confines of her garment so he could pinch and tug at her nipples as he kissed and bit at her slender neck. She’d be sensitive there, and it would make her moan in a throaty voice that made him hard. 

He imagined telling her what a naughty, dirty little witch she’d been as he rucked up the skirt of her dress. It would be easier to just take it off, but there was something he liked about how debauched she’d look with the fabric bunched around her waist and her tits out. 

His hand worked fast, stroking and squeezing in all the right places as he pictured himself bending her over, pressing her down onto the smooth wood of the table, sliding into her, fisting her messy curls as he took her hard. She would moan, yes, but she’d also be mouthy, and he’d have to slap her arse for her attitude. It was all a game though, and she’d love it. She’d beg and plead for more, harder, faster, and he’d lean over and tell her how good she felt, how he wanted her to come all over his cock. And then, only after she came, her body fluttering and spasming around him, would he allow himself to let go and fill her with his come.

“Fuck, oh fuck yes,” he hissed as he used the fantasy to push himself over the edge. He came with a loud moan, and leaned against the wall for a few moments until he regained his composure enough to make himself once again presentable and join his father for the rest of this interminable evening.

~oOo~

Draco was incredibly thankful he’d taken care of his ‘hard problem’ in the bathroom prior to joining his father and Hermione in the library because he walked in to see them in an embrace, Lucius kissing her deeply as his large palm cupped her arse and held her close. 

Well, there went that theory about their marriage being on the rocks. 

He stood in the doorway for a moment and just watched. In the past he would have loudly berated them both for forcing him to witness such things, but with his body still tingling and flush from orgasm, it was easier to appreciate the way Hermione pressed her body against Lucius and twisted her fingers in his hair, and the soft whimper she made as he squeezed her arse through her dress, even if it was his father she was kissing.

Draco folded his arms as he leaned against the door frame and wondered how long it would take them to notice him. Perhaps Hermione had been flirting with him merely to get a rise out of her husband. If so, it seemed to have worked. He wondered how far they’d go, knowing that he’d be joining them and whether he might be lucky enough to get a glimpse of her bare breasts. Any guilt or disgust he’d once felt at walking in on his father and stepmother was long gone. 

To Draco’s disappointment, he did not get to see Hermione’s bare breasts or her skirt rucked up over her hips. Lucius spotted him before they got too carried away and leaned in to whisper something to Hermione that Draco couldn’t hear. 

They broke apart, and she at least had the decency to blush. His father just looked obnoxiously smug.

“Sorry Draco. We didn’t hear you come in,” she said softly. 

He looked around the room then and noted the large Christmas tree, heavily decorated in a mix of gold, silver, and white ornaments and twinkling fairy lights.

“Is there a reason we’re in the library?” he asked.

Lucius shrugged. “It’s Hermione’s favourite room.”

“We always have pudding in the parlour.”

“Well, this year we’re having it in the library,” she said firmly.

“Careful, Father. You start changing a tradition here or there, and the next thing you know, you’re married to a muggleborn,” Draco retorted with a smirk. “Oh, wait. You’ve already done that. If we’re going to shoot all of our traditions to hell, you could have at least let me wear casual clothing.”

He flopped down on the sofa and called for Whipple to bring him a brandy.

“You’d do well to remember that you are not too old for me to hex, son,” Lucius said tightly. 

Draco watched in mild annoyance as Hermione rested her hand on his father’s chest and pressed herself into his side.

“No one is hexing anyone tonight,” she said. “It’s Christmas, and I want it to be memorable for far better reasons than you two fighting.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at his father’s uncharacteristically fond expression as he gazed down at his wife. 

Well. That was interesting. It appeared that she’d somehow managed to make Lucius Malfoy somewhat of a less miserable human being. If he hadn’t coveted the witch so thoroughly, perhaps he could have appreciated her bond with his father. 

Whipple returned with drinks for everyone and what looked like a decadent chocolate mousse. 

Hermione took a glass of wine, and to Draco’s surprise, she sat down beside him on the sofa, offering him a smile. Lucius took a seat across from them in a wingback chair, seating himself like a king upon a throne. Dear Merlin the man was dramatic. Did Hermione actually  _ like _ that?

“This looks so decadent! Shall we enjoy it now?” she asked brightly with a nod to their final course. 

If Draco thought dinner was bad, then drinks and pudding with Hermione was even worse. She moaned - literally  _ moaned _ \- when she took her first bite of chocolate mousse, and he swore her eyes practically rolled back in her head. The pudding was damn good, but he didn’t think it was orgasmic, by any means. Thank Merlin he’d already wanked in the toilet after dinner because the sight of Hermione Granger licking her fucking spoon would have had him coming in his pants like some pathetic 13-year-old wizard.

He tried to focus on anything other than the gorgeous witch beside him. That was how he noticed that she’d rearranged some of the furniture in the library. It was clear she obviously spent a great deal of time here for the sitting area had been expanded to include a plush rug by the fireplace. She’d also added thick, soft pillows and cosy blankets to the window seats and some of the chairs, including the wingback chair his father was sitting in. It definitely softened the austere feel of the room. 

He made the mistake of glancing back at Hermione, whose pink tongue flicked over the silver spoon she held. All he could think about was what it would feel like to have that tongue flicking over him. Any part of him. 

“Lucius, this is amazing. I can’t believe the elves have been holding out on me like this. Why didn’t you tell me they could make this any time?” she asked.

Draco watched his father smirk at her. 

“Special treats for special occasions, my darling. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to get too full.”

“But what if I like being full? Absolutely stuffed?” she asked in a pouty voice that made his tired dick twitch in his pants.

“You’d pop the seams of that dress. Seriously Granger, I can’t believe you can still breathe in that thing after eating a 10-course dinner,” Draco muttered.

She laughed, a delightful giggling sound, as if he’d said the funniest thing in the world. His father even chuckled for a moment, which made Draco feel as if he’d missed some sort of inside joke. He hated that feeling.

“Sometimes I’m willing to suffer to look beautiful,” she admitted. “But these? Not even a cushioning charm can redeem these.”

He swallowed hard as she turned and leaned back on the sofa to lift a leg, revealing a strappy shoe. If ever a pair of heels had screamed “Come fuck me,” it was these. Silver, with a heel that looked downright deadly, and sparkling straps that crossed her foot and wrapped around her ankle. Her toes were painted red, and he hated knowing that even her feet were attractive. 

“I’m impressed you can even walk in these,” he said lightly. He’d had enough alcohol that he permitted himself a light touch, his fingertips brushing her ankle and the top of her foot. After all, her feet were practically in his lap.

“It took a lot of practice, and I definitely would not want to wear them all night at a ball,” she said with a laugh.

“If you’d worn something like this at Hogwarts, you would have had dozens of wizards panting after you.”

She laughed harder this time. “If I’d worn something like at Hogwarts, I would have tripped and fallen down the stairs and probably broken my neck. Help me take them off, please? You were right about this dress - it’s tight enough that it’s not easy to bend over.”

He felt his dick lurch again with her feet in his lap and looked up to see if his father was angered by her actions. Lucius was savouring a bite of chocolate mousse and seemed nonplussed by his wife’s actions.

Draco reached out gingerly and unfastened Hermione’s heels, slipping them off and letting them drop to the floor. 

“Ohhh… that’s so much better,” she breathed out, leaning back onto the sofa cushions. She looked so damn fuckable in that dress, and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to climb on top of her right there.

“You’re ridiculous, Granger,” he muttered under his breath. He definitely needed a distraction from the witch beside him. He looked around the room again, tearing his eyes from her.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that this is your favourite room. You always were a bookworm,” he observed. 

“Lucius has been so thoughtful about indulging my book habit,” she admitted, smiling fondly at her husband.

“Yes, I suppose it’s only a matter of time before we have to construct additional shelves for the books you’ve added to the library,” Lucius observed, “Although I dare say you’ve certainly improved the collection.” 

Hermione smirked, and again Draco thought he’d perhaps missed something. She sat up and looked as if she was about to say something when they were interrupted by the pop of an elf apparating in. 

Whipple stood before them, looking nervous as he clutched an envelope.

“Whipple is sorry to interrupt, but an owl has delivered an urgent message for Master Malfoy,” he said as he held out the envelope to Lucius. 

Lucius accepted and opened the proffered envelope, arching an eyebrow as he read before his expression turned stony. 

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, sitting up straight beside Draco.

“The Laurent deal is floundering,” Lucius said tightly. “I need to deal with this.”

“Now? Darling, it’s Christmas Eve!” Hermione objected.

Draco sipped his brandy and resisted the urge to tell her to get used to it because business came before everything with Lucius Malfoy.

“I know. Please, enjoy yourselves. I will return as soon as I can.” He said as he approached his wife and son. He bent at the waist to press a kiss to Hermione’s forehead. “I’m sure you can keep Draco entertained for a time.”

He strode quickly from the library after that, his shoes tapping on the wood floor before he closed the grand library doors behind him.

~oOo~

Hermione drew in a long deep breath as Lucius exited the room. He’d played the part of an annoyed executive needing to salvage an important deal to perfection. This was now her cue to amp up her efforts. All evening long she’d enjoyed flirting with Draco. The seductress was not a role familiar to her, but her relationship with Lucius had done wonders for her self-esteem and her confidence in her own allure. It had been utterly delightful to watch Draco blush and shift uncomfortably in his chair repeatedly during dinner, and thrilling to catch him staring at her ample cleavage. 

She thought perhaps her moans over the chocolate mousse had been a bit over the top, but in fairness to Yola, the kitchen elf who prepared most of the evening’s delicacies, the mousse was genuinely delicious. A few times she’d caught Lucius smirking at her and noticed that he’d subtly adjusted himself more than once, proving that he was certainly not immune to her charms either. 

Beside her, Draco downed his brandy and sighed. 

“Right. Well, Granger, I hate to say it, but business always has come first for father. You don’t have to worry about entertaining me. I can always just go to bed.”

She panicked for a brief moment and pressed a hand on his chest, pushing him back against the sofa cushions before he could make an escape. 

“Don’t be silly. I’m sure he won’t be dreadfully long. It is Christmas Eve, after all, and you wouldn’t want to leave me here all alone, would you?” she asked, taking a pouty tone of voice. She leaned in toward him, and noticed that he looked down at her breasts again as he drew in a shaky breath. 

“I need something stronger than brandy,” he muttered. “Whipple? Bring us a bottle of Ogden’s finest!” 

The elf popped in and out of the room, returning with the requested firewhisky and two glasses before disappearing again with a quiet “thank you,” from Hermione. 

“You know, I appreciate your flexibility with the change tonight, being in the library instead of the parlour. I thought Lucius might faint when I first suggested it,” she admitted, liking the wry smile on his face as he poured a glass of whisky.

“It’s just a room,” he said before throwing up a hand in self-defense. “I don’t mean to insult your books! But it doesn’t matter whether we have pudding here or in the parlour or any other room.”

He downed his drink in one go and then looked around again. “It’s very cosy and festive in here with the tree and all of the pillows and blankets.”

“Thank you. As Lucius said, it is my favourite room, and I wanted it to be merry and comfortable. And, well, to be honest, I thought you might enjoy seeing some of the new additions to the collection.”

Bingo! His curiosity was piqued, she could tell.

“What all have you added?”

“Let me show you!” she said brightly, clasping his hand in her own and pulling him up from the sofa and then down an aisle of shelves laden with books. She was pleased to note that he did not withdraw his hand from her’s.

“If you’re dragging me back here to show me 20 different versions of  _ Hogwarts: A History _ , I reserve the right to judge and mock you mercilessly,” he said behind her.

“Oh, don’t be silly. I’m not THAT obsessed with the school. Really, Draco!” 

She led him from section to section of the library, pointing out an obscure potions text, books on rare plants, and a whole new section on arithmancy that had been sorely lacking before she’d come along. She showed him shelves filled with books about muggle and wizarding history and a fabulous collection of muggle literature, including more than a few first edition copies of cherished books. 

As they moved from one section of the library to the next, a hint of a smile graced Draco’s face, and she noticed that he seemingly paid more attention to her than the books. She made a point to move in closer to him when possible, placing a soft hand on his bicep or forearm. Oh yes, she’d done a great job of winding him up and reeling him in. 

She ended their tour where this entire scenario began: the erotic literature section, where she’d discovered Alfred Bryan’s poem, “Enthralled,” and recited it to Lucius, imploring him to teach her to sin. 

“Are you familiar with the works of  Anaïs Nin?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Well, that settles that. She was a muggle writer of French-Cuban origin. I will admit I didn’t read any of her works until recently, but I’m a huge fan.”

“Is this where you make me read muggle books and try to convince me of the error of my ways?” he asked wryly.

She laughed at the look on his face.

“Don’t be silly. I happen to know that you’ve read muggle literature.”

“Lucius is telling on me, isn’t he?”

“Perhaps.”

She turned to the bookshelf and reached for the book she wanted - that she’d deliberately placed just out of reach this morning.

“I shouldn’t have taken off my heels! Almost!” she said as she stretched up on her tiptoes to try to reach the book and waited to see if Draco would fall for her move.

He did. 

Hook, line, and sinker.

Before she knew it, he’d moved behind her, and she could feel the fabric of his shirt and dress robes against the bare skin of her back and the head of his body warming hers. 

“You’re ridiculously short, Granger, you know that?” he said in a teasing voice, going so far as to rest his pointy chin in her curls.

“Well, then I suppose it’s a good thing I have a big, strong wizard here to help me,” she teased, pressing her arse back just enough to feel him behind her, already half-hard. 

He froze behind her, and she hoped that was enough for him to snap and lose his composure. Perhaps he’d grab her hips and thrust against her and then slide a hand around to cup her breast and -

“Which book do you want?” his breath fell near her ear, interrupting her sudden fantasy, and she fought the urge to shiver.

“That one,” she said, pointing to it.

He pulled down the requested book and handed it to her before stepping back, much to her dismay.

She turned around and leaned against the bookcase with what she hoped was a flirtatious smile. 

“Thank you.”

“So what’s so great about this book?” he asked, looking a little more flustered than he had moments ago.

“It’s beautiful and incredibly thought-provoking. She has an amazing use of descriptive language, and her words evoke such emotion!”

He came closer to look at the title. “Henry and June. Doesn’t sound too exciting.”

Hermione grinned in response. Oh he had no idea what was coming. She’d used a spell of her own creation to pre-mark the pages and passages she wanted to find. 

“It’s actually an uncensored diary that Nin kept during the early 1930s, where she wrote openly about her life, her marriage, and her relationships with others, most notably her affair with American writer Henry Miller. He’s the Henry in this book, and his wife was June. When it was published it broke a lot of barriers regarding women and sexuality. It’s an interesting self-analysis of her life,” she explained.

“This muggle published a diary about her affairs?” Draco looked scandalised, and Hermione couldn’t help but giggle.

“She did, and I’m so grateful for it,” she said as she flipped through the pages. 

“‘Do you have regrets that we were so overwhelmed? Do you ever wish to live those hours over again and differently, with more confidence?’”* she read. “I think about that quote sometimes, about how chaotic everything was after the war, and how we came of age in that chaos, trying to figure out who we were, in a society being rebuilt.”

“You’d do things differently?” he asked, his tone curious.

“Perhaps. Or maybe not. I ended up here, however improbable that may be. So perhaps it was for the best, but to live that period again, with more confidence, to say things that should have been said...it’s a powerful and intriguing thought, isn’t it?”

He looked away then, pensive, and she wondered what he’d do differently if he had the chance.

“In any case, I try to live my life now with no regrets, with confidence.”

“So, um, what else does that book say that you like?” 

She flipped through the pages until she found the next pre-marked passage.

“‘Sometimes we reveal ourselves, when we are least like ourselves.’”*

His brow furrowed. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I can’t speak for her, of course, but for me, it’s about letting go of the person everyone thinks you are, the public face, in order to find those deep, dark places within you. To awaken a part of you that is wild and vibrant and alive, but so different from the ‘you’ that you are on a daily basis. My life with Lucius, the way we are together, the sensations and emotions he brings out in me - it seemed so improbable to so many people when we went public, and yet it’s me. What was revealed when I was least like myself, is an intrinsic part of me, and my life is so much richer and fuller because of that.”

Draco looked thoughtful but also vaguely uncomfortable at the mention of his father, and Hermione knew she needed to stop treading carefully and move to more explicit quotes. 

“I suppose it’s more difficult for a man - or a wizard - to understand because you’re not caught in the same dichotomy. Here - listen to this: ‘I will always be the virgin-prostitute, the perverse angel, the two-faced sinister and saintly woman.’”*

She looked up at him. “She speaks to a common theme in the muggle world, where women are viewed as either sinners or saints, the virgin or the whore, when in reality women are far more complex than that and capable of being neither or both. From a personal standpoint though, this quote spoke to me because the world expects so much of me, because of how I helped Harry. And because I’m a muggleborn who married a Malfoy. But I’m so much more than that, and the parts of me that I can’t show the rest of the world - they’re real and they’re me as well. Don’t you ever want to explore those deep, dark places in yourself, Draco?”

His pupils had widened and he was looking at her with an intensity that both surprised and thrilled her.

“I’m not sure you could handle my deep, dark places, Granger,” he said in a low voice.

A smirk rose to her lips. “I bet I could. I’m not the buttoned-up prude everyone thinks I am.”

His eyes trailed down to her breasts, barely concealed in her red dress. He swallowed hard, and she knew he was close to his breaking point.

“Oh, I know you’re not buttoned up. What else in that book speaks to you? Keep reading.”

“Close your eyes,” she demanded.

“What? Why?”

“Just do it. It’s easier to focus on the words if you remove the visual distraction.”

He sighed and then closed his eyes. She stepped closer to him, until she was almost touching him, angled her head toward his ear, and read.

“‘I don’t hear your words: your voice reverberates against my body like another kind of caress, another kind of penetration. I have no power over your voice. It comes straight from you into me. I could stuff my ears and it would find its way into my blood and make it rise.’”*

She knew her own breathing was heavy when she finished the passage, for she’d spent an age flirting with Draco, taunting him, drawing him into their twisted games. She ached to hear his voice in her ear, whispering dirty, filthy things to her, to feel his hands on her bare skin.

He kept his eyes closed as she finished the passage, but she could tell that he was affected by it. 

“Is there more?” his voice was raspy, and she saw the flex of his hand before he clenched it into a fist, a physical sign of how close his control was to snapping entirely.

She flipped through the book again. “‘He guides my inexperienced hands. It is like a forest fire, to be with him. New places of my body are aroused and burnt. He is incendiary. I leave him in an unquenchable fever.’”

She moved closer still, placing the book on a shelf behind him before she put her hands on his broad chest and slid them up and over his shoulders. His eyes flew open, wide and full of surprise and arousal. 

“Granger-” he started to say.

“Shut up and kiss me,” she whispered, closing the distance between them with a kiss.

~oOo~

Kissing Draco Malfoy was everything. 

Soft, rough, sensual, electrifying. They were combustible in a way she’d only ever before experienced with Lucius.

Draco’s mouth opened automatically for her when her lips brushed his. His lips were soft and warm, and his tongue tasted of whisky and chocolate, flavours she would forever associate with sin and vice. His response to her was tentative, and for a few brief seconds, she thought he might stiffen and shove her away. 

And then the dam broke.

He took control, burying a hand in her curls to hold her head in place as he devoured her. She found herself pressed tightly between him and the bookshelves as he caged her in, a firm hand hot on her bare back. 

There was too much history between them, too much anger and angst and hurt and secret attraction for their kiss to be a gentle thing. Just as it had been that day she and Lucius came together, the combination of her and Draco was a wild mix of lips and teeth and tongue, of panted breaths and groans and whimpers. 

Her hands were in his hair, tugging at silken strands as she pushed herself ever closer to him. In the nearly nonexistent space between them, his cock grew hard, and she rolled her hips, wanting to feel the hard bulge between her legs, silently cursing the stupidly tight dress she wore. Sure, she looked incredible in it, but hours of planning and fantasising and teasing had wound her up as well, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to climb up him and wrap her legs around his waist.

He groaned when Hermione broke the kiss, but she felt his hand tighten on her arse, pressing her against his erection when she shifted to take his ear lobe between her teeth. His head fell back and he blew out an expletive as she trailed wet kisses down his throat and over his adam’s apple. Her fingers frantically worked his tie and the buttons on his shirt. She hadn’t bothered to take off his outer robe - she’d get to that later. Right now, in this moment, she needed to feel his bare skin under her palms. 

His chest, or what she could reach through his half-unbuttoned shirt, was smooth and firm and hot to the touch. She arched into him, pressing her pelvis against his as she continued to kiss and bite at his neck and ear, fast losing herself to a mix of reality and fantasy. 

Was Lucius watching them even now? Had he witnessed her seduction? Was he affected by the way she rubbed herself against Draco? By the way she touched him? How long would he leave her to her seduction before he joined in? As much as she desired Draco - and her drenched knickers were a sign that she did indeed want him - she longed to feel Lucius’s hands and mouth on her as well. 

She was abruptly jerked from her fantasy when Draco came to his senses.

“Wait,” he panted into her hair. “We have to stop.”

His hands closed around her wrists, stopping her eager fingers from unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. 

She let out a soft whine in response and wriggled in his grasp. “Draco, please…”

He looked pained. “We can’t do this. No matter how much I...you’re married to my father.”

The weight of that statement appeared to hit him hard. He released her hands and stepped back from her, running a nervous hand through his already mussed hair as he glanced across the cavernous library, as if he half-expected to see Lucius standing there glaring at him.

“You’re married to my  _ father _ ,” he repeated, more forcefully this time. “What are you  _ doing _ ?”

Of all the times for him to get a sudden case of morals, Hermione thought in frustration. She took a deep breath and fixed her most seductive gaze on him.

“I know you want me,” she said softly, stepping toward him until he was now backed against the opposite row of shelves. 

“I’d have to be blind not to.”

She let her hand graze her breast and smiled at the way his grey eyes followed her movement. 

“I want you too, Draco,” she said in a breathy voice as she leaned into him.

“Fuck. You - we can’t…”

She slid a hand quickly over his rumpled shirt, down past his belt, and over his clothed erection. 

Oh god, oh fuck, he was huge.

She let out a soft groan as she palmed and squeezed his cock through his trousers and pants. God, were all the Malfoy men this blessed? Drop-dead sexy AND well-endowed? 

“We can,” she whispered, quickly ducking her head to press a kiss between his collar bones before letting her lips trail lower.

His hand closed in her hair, and she thought - hoped - he was going to push her to her knees. The idea of taking him in her mouth, swallowing his cock whilst Lucius hopefully watched from the shadows was undeniably attractive.

“Granger…” 

To her dismay, his other hand grabbed her wrist and removed her hand from his cock. 

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you and my father, but I can’t do this. Not like this. He could literally walk in any minute.”

“We could go somewhere else,” she smiled brightly at him.

“What? Fuck. No!” He stared at her, clearly shocked by her behavior and her implied offer.

“Granger. Hermione.” He drew in a deep breath. “You’re gorgeous. You…you’re everything I’d want in a witch.”

He looked pained, and she realised then that Lucius had been correct. Draco did not just desire her sexually. She wondered yet again why he’d not spoken up, why he’d not approached her before she became involved with his father.

“But I can’t do this, not to my father. Any other bloke, maybe. But he…”

His voice trailed off, and a look of regret crossed his face.

“My father risked his own life to save mine during the battle. He went to great lengths, was even willing to fall on his sword so to speak, to keep me out of Azkaban after the war. I can’t...you’re his  _ wife _ , and regardless of whatever is going on here with you two, I know he loves you. I can’t do that to him.”

He looked so utterly dejected and sad at this pronouncement that she couldn’t help but hug him, an act which most definitely startled him.

“Oh Draco,” she murmured into his neck as she hugged him tight. “You are such a  _ good _ man.”

His arms hung limply by his sides as he refused to return her hug. 

“I can’t say that’s one I hear often.”

She laughed lightly and then pulled back to smile at him. 

“You should hear it often.”

“Is this where you tell me I’m going to make some witch very happy someday?” she heard the regret in his voice.

“No.”

“No?”

She smirked at him. 

“This is where I tell you that I’m about to make all of our fantasies come true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I’ve not actually read Henry & June, so apologies if Hermione’s analysis is way off base. 
> 
> * Quotes directly attributed to Anaïs Nin, Henry and June: From "A Journal of Love": The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1931-1932:
> 
> “Do you have regrets that we were so overwhelmed? Do you ever wish to live those hours over again and differently, with more confidence.”
> 
> “Sometimes we reveal ourselves when we are least like ourselves.”
> 
> “I will always be the virgin-prostitute, the perverse angel, the two-faced sinister and saintly woman.”
> 
> “I don't hear your words: your voice reverberates against my body like another kind of caress, another kind of penetration. I have no power over your voice. It comes straight from you into me. I could stuff my ears and it would find its way into my blood and make it rise.”
> 
> “He guides my inexperienced hands. It is like a forest fire, to be with him. New places of my body are aroused and burnt. He is incendiary. I leave him in an unquenchable fever.”


	4. Chapter 4

#  Chapter 4

Lucius dutifully played his role in Hermione’s scheme, leaving her to her seduction. He went to his private study where he carefully shrugged out of his outer robe and draped it over the desk chair. He removed his waistcoat and tie and folded them neatly on his desk before toeing off his leather shoes and peeling off his socks. He then removed his favourite green and gold cufflinks - a gift from his darling young wife - and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He debated taking off his belt and untucking his starched white shirt, but ultimately decided against it. He did so love the sound of supple leather slapping across Hermione’s pert little arse. He wasn’t sure if Draco was into that sort of thing, but he at least wanted to know it was an option. Conjured leather made by magic just wasn’t the same.

He glanced at the mantel clock and rolled his shoulders, anticipation building in him. Had he given Hermione enough time? He didn’t want to interrupt too soon before she’d had a chance to make enough progress with Draco, but the suspense was killing him. He also had no intention of missing out watching his little  protégée at work. Watching was half the fun.

Lucius cast a disillusionment charm and a  _ muffliato _ on himself and slipped back into the library, invisible and silent. Hermione had staged the sitting area by the fireplace with extra blankets and pillows, and he suspected she intended their illicit assignation to happen there. The space was empty though. The dishes from their final course had been cleared away, and all that remained were the open wine bottle, glasses, and an open bottle of Ogden’s finest. Interesting. 

He poured himself a few fingers of whisky and took a sip. He listened for a moment and then wound his way through the library. He should have known that his bookworm would cast her seductive spells amongst the stacks. 

He had to draw in a sharp breath when he found Hermione at last. She had led Draco to the erotic literature section, and Lucius listened as she recited phrases from that muggle diary she so loved. He still wasn’t entirely sure who this Anais Nin person was, but he liked the way she wrote. He and Hermione had spent a most enjoyable summer evening in the gardens as he teased her skin with the silky petals of a plucked flower whilst she read parts of it aloud to him.

His cock hardened as he watched his beautiful wife use her charm and allure to draw in her prey. She was undeniably seductive as she spoke in low voice, sharing quotes that left Draco visibly affected. 

Their kiss was a clash of teeth and tongue and lips and roving hands and explosive passion, and Lucius stroked his own cock through his trousers at the way his wife’s hands wound through Draco’s blond hair and clutched at his robes and attacked his tie. He could feel the ghost of a kiss on his lips, the phantom touch in his hair. It was remarkable how well he knew her inside and out that watching her with another wizard was almost -  _ almost _ \- like being part of the real thing. 

He’d been unsure of whether he would feel jealousy at the sight of another wizard touching his wife, but the sight of her with his son provoked no envy in him. Draco had always resembled him, and watching Hermione with his son was like watching a younger version of himself. 

It was rather touching, really, the way that Draco tried so hard to resist her. He’d been unsure of whether Draco would be able to resist the one witch he desired above all throwing herself at him, and he found himself almost… emotional… at the loyalty his son expressed. He was not proud of the man he’d once been, and he knew that his own mistakes could have easily ruined his only child. Yet somehow, against all odds, Draco had grown into a remarkable young man. Standing there in the library, listening in on their conversation, Lucius could admit, if only to himself, that Draco and Hermione could have been very good for each other. Knowing now the full loyalty his son possessed, Lucius had no doubt that he would have treated Hermione with all of the reverence and love she deserved. 

Lucius Malfoy was a selfish man. He’d always known this about himself. He was possessive and protective of that which was his, and once he fell for Hermione Granger, he could not imagine letting her go. Not even if Draco desired her. Not even if Draco loved her. Not even if Draco might have been better for her.

But this… this he could give them all. All of their fantasies, wrapped up in one debauched, twisted bow. 

“This is where I tell you that I’m about to make all of our fantasies come true.”

Hermione’s voice was sin personified, and Lucius knew he’d watched long enough. He could no longer be a passive viewer. 

With a wave of his wand, he dropped the disillusionment charm and the  _ muffliato _ , savouring the moment his wife and son realised he was there. 

Draco looked horrified, and for a moment Lucius thought he might be sick. 

“Father.. I… I can explain,” he stammered.

Lucius ignored him, turning to his love. 

“I see you’ve started without me, my darling,” he crooned.

She turned to him with a grin. “Says the man who is half-undressed already?”

“Merely trying to catch up to you. Are you wearing  _ anything _ under that scandalous dress?”

She offered him a pout as she reached out to slide her fingers down the placket of his shirt. 

“Just my knickers, and they’re uncomfortable.”

He raised an eyebrow, deliberately ignoring Draco whilst trying to also watch him out of the corner of his eye.

“Well, we can’t have that. Why are your knickers so uncomfortable love?”

“They’re so wet,” she said in a quiet, whimpering little voice that went straight to his cock. Her ability to switch from sex goddess to innocent ingenue was impressive, and it had his mind whirling in a dozen different directions.

“What. the. FUCK. is going on here?” 

Draco’s voice behind them came out as a growl.

Hermione curled into Lucius’s side as they both looked at his son.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, Draco.”

A flush rose on his son’s pale cheeks. 

“How long were you watching?” Hermione asked, tugging on his hair to get his attention.

“Long enough.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before turning to his son.

“That Anais Nin book gets me every time. I must say that I admire your restraint. Few wizards would turn down a beautiful and brilliant witch like you did.”

“She’s your  _ wife _ .”

Hermione let go of him to face Draco.

“I am, but tonight, I’m also yours… if you want me.”

The look on Draco’s face was one of such shock that Lucius might have found it amusing had her words not also made his cock lurch.

She walked toward him, the seductive goddess firmly back in place.

“You see, Draco, I have this fantasy.” 

“Uh huh.”

“I want to be worshipped. Adored.”

“Father not doing that for you?”

She smiled. “Oh he does. Always. But you see, I want to be completely and utterly taken. Filled. I want two sets of hands on me and two mouths on my body.”

She leaned in to him so she could speak softly in his ear, where her breath would no doubt send shivers down his spine. 

“I want to feel a cock in my throat whilst being thoroughly fucked.”

Lucius was fairly certain he and Draco had both groaned at her words. Perhaps he’d taught his  protégée too well.

Draco blew out a soft expletive. 

“And you want  _ me _ ?”

“I do.” She smiled at him before looking back at Lucius. “The first time we ever discussed bringing someone else into our bed, it was all hypothetical. I couldn’t imagine anyone else touching me,  _ fucking me _ , as he did.”

Draco’s eyes fluttered closed.

“But then, I couldn’t let go of the idea. The fantasy grew. The idea of luring some handsome, beautiful wizard into my bed. The idea of two mouths. Two cocks. Being completely and utterly filled.”

Lucius gripped his own cock through his trousers at her words. He’d known of her willingness to explore, to try new things, but he was no longer certain whether her words reflected a genuine fantasy of her own she’d not shared or were part of her seduction of Draco.

She stroked her fingertips over his cheek, and Draco opened his eyes to look at her, with a look of pure, unadulterated lust. 

“I wanted it. Badly. I didn’t think it would ever be more than just a fantasy because Lucius is so possessive, but then… almost by serendipity, my dear husband told me that you wanted me.”

Draco’s eyes shot to Lucius, a look of questioning on his face. 

“Your affections were not as discreet as you thought them,” Lucius said with a bit of a shrug. “But it occurred to me that if Hermione’s desires were to be fulfilled, then someone who could be trusted, someone who cherished and adored her nearly as much as I did was surely the best option.”

“I didn’t believe him at first, so it was perhaps fate’s intervention that I saw you that night in the pub,” she said softly, trailing her hand back down his chest, letting her nails graze his skin. “And I knew that night, after we separated, I knew that I wanted you like I’d never wanted anyone before, save for Lucius.”

Draco’s eyes cut to his father. 

“And you? What do you get out of this?” His tone was accusatory, as if he could not believe that his father would offer up his wife on a proverbial platter.

“What do I get? Oh Draco, I get everything,” he said with a smirk. “I get to indulge my darling wife in a fantasy of her own, with one of the only wizards I dare trust with her. I get to see her stretched and filled with cock until she’s well and thoroughly fucked. I get to give my son the one thing no one else can give him - a night with the witch he most desires. And most of all, I get to see my precious little  protégée put her seductive skills to the test.”

Lucius paused to take a long sip of his whisky, savouring the burn of the alcohol.

“You see,” he said, after swallowing, “This whole evening is all her doing.”

Draco looked down in confusion at Hermione, who was still pressed against him. She smiled up at him alluringly. 

“You aren’t angry with me, are you?” 

The innocent ingenue voice was back as she questioned Draco, and with it came Lucius’s memories of endless hours of role play, of Hermione in an indecent version of a Hogwarts uniform, crawling to him on her knees as she begged her ‘Professor’ for higher marks. 

“You could have just asked me.”

“There’s no fun in that!” she said with a pout. “Besides, you wouldn’t have believed me if I’d said something like this.”

“Perhaps, Draco, she’s learned to be a bit more Slytherin in her desires,” Lucius offered in amusement. 

“I needed to  _ show _ you that I wanted you,” she said earnestly, hand sliding back down to palm his cock. “And I do want you. Very much.”

Lucius watched in silence as Hermione reached up with a cautious hand and drew Draco’s head toward hers, at last pressing another kiss to his lips. 

“He’s my  _ father _ .”

The words were somewhat garbled as he said them half into her luscious mouth.

“Silly wizard. I don’t want you to fuck _ him _ ,” she said with a giggle. “I want both of you. At once.”

Draco looked back to his father, and Lucius merely held up his glass in a half-salute to his son. 

“One night. I can’t guarantee I’m willing to share her beyond that,” he confirmed.

Hermione looked over her shoulder alluringly at her husband, and he knew that she wanted him to confirm for Draco - yet again - that they genuinely did want him in their bed.

“She has the tightest arse you’ll ever fuck,” he offered. He was pretty sure from the look on Hermione’s face that was  _ not _ what she had in mind. 

He was also sure from the look on Draco’s face it was  _ absolutely _ the right thing to say.

~oOo~

They ended up back at the seating area by the library fireplace, where Hermione took hold of Lucius’s wand and used it to rearrange the space, transfiguring the sofa into an enormous bed, laden with dark green satin bedding. She had nowhere to store her own wand in the overly tight dress, and she rather liked using her husband’s wand. They were both dragon heartstring cores, and the intimacy of using his wand always did something to her. 

Lucius was looking at her hungrily, and she knew the sight of her using his wand never failed to turn him on. He reached for her seemingly without thinking, drawing her into an embrace and pressing her against his own body. Their kiss felt like coming home. She was undoubtedly attracted to Draco and absolutely intended for him to fuck her six ways from Sunday before the night was over, but being in Lucius’s arms, feeling his cock hard against her belly and his tongue in her mouth made her feel safe and desired and protected in a way that nothing else ever could. 

He broke off the kiss first, his large hand cupping her face. 

“I think Draco is feeling a bit neglected, darling. He needs you.”

The words, spoken in a low but commanding voice were a reminder that even though this was her seduction, her orchestration of sin, as it were, Lucius would always be a dominant participant, and oh how she loved him for that! He would still allow her the pretense of leading - and she had indeed led Draco into their sordid fantasy - but there was a comfort in knowing that he was there, that he would subtly guide her and protect her.

She offered her husband a smile that conveyed every sappy thought she didn’t dare utter in front of Draco and then turned to the man who would be her next lover.

He’d shrugged out of his robes and his shirt was still half-unbuttoned, and he was gazing at her with lust but also some trepidation. Hermione rolled her shoulders back, confidence bolstered by the supportive little pat on her arse from her husband as she made her way to Draco.

She walked to him, without uttering a word, and then grabbed both sides of his shirt and yanked hard enough to send buttons scattering.

“Fuck, Granger!” he exclaimed, placing a steadying hand on her elbow. “Worn a bloke before you shred his clothes.”

“You were taking too long to undress,” she said simply, smiling sweetly at him. She groped his cock again before moving quickly to unfasten his belt. “I’ve been in wet knickers for HOURS, and if someone doesn’t fuck me soon, I might combust.”

Draco, it seemed, was motivated by blunt words and action, and any trepidation he’d previously had appeared to dissipate then. Hermione lost herself in the feel of unfamiliar hands stroking her body, cupping her breasts over her dress and then awkwardly shoving aside the cups of her gown to lift her breasts free. He pinched her nipples - hard, just like she liked - and then dipped his head to take one rosy bud in his mouth. 

Somehow, by some miracle, she managed to keep her head enough despite his roving lips and tongue, to get his shirt off and his trousers loosened enough to slip her hand inside and grasp his cock, and oh god, what a magnificent cock it was! He was hot and hard in her hand, and felt enormous. Just the thought of that cock inside of her sent another flood of wetness to her poor knickers. 

She startled when she felt another pair of hands on her body and then relaxed into Lucius’s touch as he swept his hands up her bare back and over her shoulders, sliding down the straps of her gown as he went. She felt the tortuously slow pull of the zipper, and then the blissful sensation of that torture device of a gown finally slipping from her body.

“Is that better, darling? You looked ready to be rid of that dress,” Lucius crooned into her ear. 

She leaned back with a sigh at the feel of his bare chest, rubbing her arse into his groin as his hands snaked around to cup her breasts and tease her now-wet nipples. Draco had stepped back from her then, eagerly shedding his shoes, socks, and trousers, leaving him clad in only form-fitting black boxer-briefs that barely contained his cock. 

He was narrower than Lucius, she observed silently, his shoulders and chest not quite as broad, and his body was all lean, defined muscles. His arm flexed as he removed his clothes, and she spied a black dragon tattoo on his bicep and shoulder, the inky beast’s magical wings fluttering as he moved. She wanted to lick that tattoo, and she wanted to see him shudder as she did it. He was so fucking beautiful, and tonight he was  _ hers _ .

“Granger… Hermione. Fuck, love, you’re…” He seemed speechless as he took in the sight of her clad only in a very wet black lace thong. 

“Do I leave you speechless?” she asked in a teasing voice, slipping from her husband’s grasp to approach him again. She’d intended to explore his chest with her hands and mouth before gracefully sinking to her knees to peel off his pants. 

Instead he grabbed her, lifting her up as his hands grasped her arse. She let out a little shriek at the sudden movement and wrapped her arms and legs around him to keep from falling. Her shriek melted into a moan as she rubbed her core over his erection. 

“Oh god, Draco, please…”

“Yes, that’s more like it. You’ve done far too much teasing tonight, Granger. I think it’s time for you to beg.”

He tossed her onto the magically transfigured bed, groaning as she spread her legs wantonly for him. She was fast losing control of this seduction, and she found that she didn’t much care. At this point, she would happily relinquish control to anyone who was willing to make her come.

Hermione turned her head, looking for Lucius, and was relieved when he came around the other side of the mattress, now dressed only in his paisley silk pants. 

“I think that’s a marvelous idea. She begs so prettily, don’t you, pet?” Lucius said as he stroked her hair. It was a nickname he only used when they played games of dominance and submission, and it was a comforting relief to slip into that role.

Draco tugged her sodden thong down her legs and tossed it aside, and then she finally, finally felt the hot, firm touch of a finger on her clit. 

“Oh fuck, love, you are  _ so wet _ . You’re dripping.”

He pushed one and then two fingers into her cunt, and she could  _ hear  _ just how turned on she was on the squishing sound her body made as he fucked her with his fingers. 

“Yes, please. Harder!” she whimpered. “Use your tongue on me!” 

She thought he might torment her and refuse, for she’d long associated Draco with teasing, but he ducked his head, and she nearly came at the feel of his tongue on her clit and the sight of his pale blond head moving between her thighs. 

She was already so close, and it took mere minutes for Draco to fling her over the edge, her hips bucking in orgasm as she came on his face and fingers.

Lucius climbed onto the bed behind her and pulled her hands up above her head. She arched her back and glared up at him in frustration, for she’d intended to grip Draco’s hair and hold his face to her cunt as she came.

“Beautiful. Just perfect.” His words washed over her as he clasped her wrists in one large hand and stroked her hair and her breasts in the other. 

Draco’s smug grin was unmistakable when he lifted his head. Oh, he was far too pleased with himself, she thought. She’d make him beg and plead and whimper when she got her hands on that gloriously big cock. 

“I think you can do more than that, can’t you, pet?” Lucius asked with a tweak of her nipple before turning his attention to Draco. 

“If you use your hand like this,” he said, demonstrating the movement with his free hand, “She’ll squirt.”

Draco arched an eyebrow at her, an impressed look on his face.

“Oh really? I’ve  _ got _ to see that.”

He was a quick study, and Lucius an exceptional teacher, and before she knew it, her entire body was spasming and shaking as they drew another orgasm from her, leaving a wet mess beneath her on the bed. 

“You taste so fucking good,” Draco practically growled, punctuating his words with a nip on her inner thigh before moving back to her cunt as she begged and pleaded for more, or for him to stop to let her catch her breath, or for him to never, dear God please never, EVER stop. 

She’d gone into this seduction, she realised, with the wrong frame of mind. She’d assumed that she and Lucius were the ones who would move in lock-step, confident in their partnership and their level of intimacy, but she’d forgotten that her husband had many more years of life experience with his son, and that they were very much cut from the same cloth. They wrung orgasm after orgasm from her body, making her whimper and moan and beg and scream, until her body was coated in a fine sheen of perspiration and she swore they were both surely sexual sadists. 

And she had yet to get her hands, mouth, or poor abused, dripping wet pussy on a cock. The unfairness of it all would have rankled her, but she figured it was poor form to complain when two utterly glorious men had given her so many orgasms she’d stopped counting. 

“Come here, darling,” Lucius said soothingly, sitting up on the bed and drawing her into his arms. 

Draco pushed a glass of water into her unsteady hands and then laughed and held it up to her mouth instead.

“I’ve never seen anyone come that much at once. You’re amazing. That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” 

She dutifully drank the proferred water and preened under the praise. Maybe she’d take back that ‘sexual sadist’ thought after all. 

Once they believed her sufficiently hydrated, they let her rest, stretched out on the bed between them, bodies glowing in light of the crackling fire. 

She was still a bit perturbed at how they’d so thoroughly taken over, so as soon as she felt like she had control of her limbs again, she rolled onto her side facing Draco.

“You’re a very bad man,” she said lightly.

He smirked in response. “I’m pretty sure you said I was a _ good _ man earlier, Granger.”

Damn him. Any attempt at sternness went straight out the window at his cheeky smirk and her memory of just how decent he’d been as he’d tried to escape her little seductive ploy.

“If you were really a good man, you’d stop teasing me and let me have your cock already.”

“You know, for all your Slytherin traits father’s supposedly bringing out in you, there’s a hell of a lot of brash Gryffindor in you, Granger.”

“If there’s not a Malfoy cock in me in the next few minutes, I might have to just give up and go up to bed for the night,” she said loftily. 

Lucius responded with a sharp smack on her arse. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make threats, darling.”

She rolled back to face her husband and reached down to stroke his cock, thankful that at some point he’d taken off his pants. 

“You did say this was MY seduction, was it not? I seem to recall you saying that you were but a player, and I was the conductor.”

He kissed her, a fond smile on his face. “Cheeky witch. I promise you’ll have your fill of Malfoy cock very soon. Go show Draco what a wonderful little cocksucker you are.”

She grinned as she turned - again - and approached Draco, who was now sprawled on his back, propped up by pillows. He’d taken off his pants in the moments she’d had her back turned, and that glorious cock was now finally on display as he stroked it. He was long, perhaps even longer than Lucius, although not quite as thick. Definitely bigger than the toy Lucius used to simulate double penetration with her. They were going to rip her in half. She wasn’t sure if she should be scared or turned on. 

“Let me,” she said eagerly, pushing his hand aside. 

“Go right ahead,” he said with a bit of a smirk that she was determined to wipe off his face. 

She swirled her tongue around the head of his cock before taking him into her mouth. He’d had his fun tormenting her, and now it was her turn. She gazed up at him, hollowed her cheeks and slid her mouth all the way down to the base of his cock on the first pass, doing her best not to gag as his cock hit her throat. 

“Oh fuck! Your mouth feels so good!” Draco’s fingers plunged into her hair, tightening as they both set a fast pace, his hips rocking with the movement of her mouth. 

Her plans to torment him might have actually worked had her husband not intervened. She was fast on her way to making Draco whimper and plead and beg when Lucius moved behind her. She was only vaguely aware of his presence and his hands on her body when he suddenly plunged into her, his cock stretching and filling her in that familiar way she always loved. 

For a moment, she thought her brain had short-circuited. This… this was incredible. Lucius fucked her, filling her swollen, wet pussy with his cock, thrusting in time with her own movement. Draco’s cock slid between her lips, grazing her throat as he fisted her curls. Each push of Lucius’s cock sent her mouth further down Draco’s cock, and there were hands, so many hands touching her body. 

Just as she teetered on the edge of another orgasm, Draco pulled her up from his cock. She was pleased to see that he looked ready to come undone. 

“C’mere,” he said breathlessly as he dragged her forward until she was no longer entwined with Lucius. “Wanna come in your sweet cunt instead. Ride my cock, baby.”

She sank down on him with a groan, savouring the feel of him deep inside of her. She looked down into his beautiful silver-grey eyes, and thought the moment rather monumental. Her younger self would never believe she was fucking Draco Malfoy. Then again, her younger self surely would never have imagined herself  _ here _ , in this situation. And yet, instead of the awkwardness she thought might arise when bringing another person into their bed, she felt only lust. Something within her, perhaps her own magic, wanted Draco, and the rightness of him being here with her and Lucius was almost overwhelming. 

“Oh fuck - you’re so wet. So hot,” he groaned beneath her as he clutched her hips tightly. “Don’t move yet. Give me a minute.” 

He’d clenched his eyes shut, fighting to stave off the inevitable orgasm, and she leaned down to brush a soft kiss against his lips. 

“Hey you,” she said quietly. 

He opened his eyes to look at her. “Hey. I’m not sure what’s more impressive, your mouth or your cunt.”

Hermione burst out laughing - she simply couldn’t help herself. 

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Draco,” she retorted, sitting back up on his cock. “I’m going to ride you until you come, and when you’re recovered, you can fuck me again. How about that?”

After that, they morphed into a heady mix of limbs and mouths and hands and senses. She rode him, breasts bouncing in the firelight, until he came, her body milking every last drop from him. She then greedily swallowed Lucius’s thick cock, pumping and sucking as Draco held her hair out of her way and filled her ears with dirty, filthy words of praise. After she’d swallowed a mouthful of Lucius’s come, he’d cast a charm to cleanse and prepare her, and then he’d worked two lubricated fingers into her arse, tonguing her clit the whole time and making her tired body squirm. All the while Draco was there, pinching and suckling her nipples and telling her how he couldn’t wait to see her cunt and arse stretched around their cocks. Never before had she been so worshipped, so cherished, so thoroughly fucked. 

Lucius withdrew his fingers and pulled her into a kiss, cradling her like a precious treasure. 

“Would you like to be filled, my darling? Stuffed to overflowing, hmm?” he asked, as he stroked her hair and back.

Her responding “please” was more of a whimpered plea than anything else. 

“And who do you want stretching your perfect little arse?” he prompted, nuzzling her neck. 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already promised it to Draco,” she replied as she played with a loose strand of his long hair. 

Lucius pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s always your choice, my sweet witch.”

Beside her, Draco trailed his fingers up and down her spine. “Granger, I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Unless, you know, you’re into that sort of thing.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, not surprised to see that familiar smirk back on his handsome face. He’d already come once in her pussy, and she wasn’t sure how open Lucius would be in the future to any repeat performances... 

She smiled prettily at him. “Will you please fuck my arse, Draco?” she asked in her sweetest voice. 

He was pressed against her almost immediately, his hard cock poking at her thigh. “Fuck yes, love. Any time.” 

Somehow the expected awkwardness of bodies shifting into new positions was absent, and she crawled into Lucius’s lap as he sat propped up by soft pillows.

“Come here, darling, and sit on my cock like a good girl,” he said in a soothing voice as he pulled her on top of him. 

“If you start calling him, ‘Daddy,’ I’m out of here, Granger,” Draco said in warning as he watched him, making her laugh again. “There are some things I don’t want to see, no matter how fantastic you look bouncing on a cock.”

She stuck her tongue out at him childishly, and he responded by swatting her arse, which only made her moan.

“Oh… so the good girl likes being spanked, does she?” he asked.

“She does. Very much so. Especially with a paddle,” Lucius said in a breathless voice as Hermione sank down on his cock. 

“You feel so good,” she breathed, locking eyes with her husband. 

“I know my birthday is not until June, but if you’re looking for gift ideas, I’d happily accept the opportunity to spank you,” Draco offered.

“You know, you’re still not too old for me to hex,” Lucius said to him over her shoulder, making Hermione laugh as she rocked her hips.

She looked back at Draco with a grin. “I’ll think about it.”

“Lean forward darling,” Lucius said as he pulled her to him, tucking her head in the crook of his neck.

“Have you done this before, Draco?” she asked, her voice somewhat muffled by Lucius’s hair.

“Anal? Yes. With another man at the same time? No.”

“She’s lubricated and stretched. Use the lubrication charm on yourself and go slow,” Lucius instructed.

Part of her wished she could ask Lucius and Draco to switch places, for she wanted to be able to see his face as another cock filled her, making her pussy absurdly tight, but she also wanted the experience of anal with someone else, as only Lucius had ever taken her that way. 

Even with lubrication and Lucius’s prior attempt to stretch her, the plummy head of Draco’s cock still stung as it breached the tight ring of her arse. That initial sting was her least favorite thing about anal sex, and with her poor body already impaled on Lucius’s cock, there wasn’t exactly a lot of room for Draco.

“Shhh… relax,” Lucius said soothingly as he stroked her back. 

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply, relaxing the muscles of her body and letting herself go limp.

Behind her, Draco pushed out a hard breath, and she imagined that he was gritting his teeth.

“Mmm… I can feel your cunt get tighter and tighter every time he pushes in,” Lucius murmured into her hair. 

“Fuck. Granger, you’re about to strangle me.”

“Shift your hips darling,” Lucius instructed, placing his hands on her thigh and hip to guide her. “Come down a little. Yes, just like that.”

Hermione did as instructed, and let out a gasp that somehow morphed into a moan when she realised he’d positioned her perfectly to press her clit on his pelvis.

Draco slid in further, and the sting of pain transformed into a sensation of unbelievable fullness. 

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she breathed into Lucius’s chest.

“Are you hurt? Are you okay?” Draco was frozen behind her. 

“Nooooo…” she let out a low moan. “So full. Don’t stop.”

By the time Draco’s entire length had been crammed into her arse, Hermione was panting, and her pussy was already fluttering around Lucius’s cock. 

“Look at me,” Lucius ordered, directing her eyes back to his. “Are you alright?”

She nodded breathlessly. 

“You’re certain?”

“Ungh.” She couldn’t decide if it was pathetic or amazing that she’d been reduced to making primal noises.

“Words, my love.”

“Yes, yes, so full,” she managed to push out.

“Yes, you are, aren’t you? If your cunt gets any tighter, I won’t be able to move,” Lucius said, pulling her in for a kiss that ended with her forehead pressed against his. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes, please,” she whimpered. 

She wasn’t sure if he said something to Draco or if they had some unspoken signal between them. She only knew that they were moving, thick cocks sliding in and out of her, hitting every possible nerve ending along the way. They experimented with different rhythms, one pushing in whilst the other pulled out, and then pushing into her at the same time. 

Lucius’s hands cradled her face and stroked her throat as he praised her, telling her how good her sweet cunt felt when she was so crammed full of cock, what a perfect little cockwhore she was for them, how much he loved to see her lost to her own pleasure, and how incredibly proud he was of her.

There on the transfigured bed, in the shadow of a Christmas tree and in the glow of a roaring fire, they ceased to be three distinct individuals. They were a wild, primal thing, moving on instinct, chasing pleasure above all else. She felt hands and mouths on her but could no longer tell who they belonged to. A mouth closed on her breast, suckling her nipple. A hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back. Low, sultry voices whispered words in her ears, sinful, depraved things and litanies of praise. 

Time and space and the mundanities of the mortal realm lost all meaning to her, and she was aware of only sensation. She could feel a coil deep within her tighten and shift as warmth spread through her. She was a violin string pulled too taut, a lit fuse burning rapidly toward an explosion. Her clit throbbed, and sensation seemed to zero in on her core. 

She was going to come, and come hard. She tried to tell Lucius, but her poor brain could no longer make words. All that came out was a garbled moan. 

It was Lucius who set her off. Or maybe Draco started it. She could not be certain. Someone had lifted her, pulling her chest back from Lucius, and then a hand was at the apex of her thighs, and a finger rubbed frantic circles around her swollen clit.

The rest of the orgasms they’d wrung from her body this night were nothing compared to this one. It could only be described as an out-of-body experience. She heard a scream she did not realise was her own, and her limbs shook, and she no longer had control of her body. White hot pleasure washed over her, igniting in every cell of her body, and quieting her raucous mind. 

She was barely cognizant of Draco coming with a roar, pumping her arse full of his cum. She was only vaguely aware of Lucius pressing a frantic kiss to her lips as he too exploded in orgasm. 

All around her, a shimmering golden glow filled the air, knocking over glasses and books, blowing the drapes, and rattling the ornaments on the tree. 

Her magic.

She’d had accidental bursts of magic before, but only one other time had it happened like this, in an explosion of color and light. It had happened once before, at the peak of utterly phenomenal sex with Lucius Malfoy. She did not want to think on what this release of accidental magic, sex magic, might mean - her brain was far too weary - but she recognised it and knew Lucius would too. 

Instead Hermione let herself go, collapsing onto her husband in a thoroughly satiated heap. 

~oOo~

She would have liked to linger with their softening cocks inside of her but felt squished by Draco and was aware that it likely wasn’t the most comfortable of positions for Lucius either. Not to mention, she was fairly certain they were all simmering in a mess of bodily fluid, given what Lucius and Draco insisted was ‘an exceptionally impressive’ squirting orgasm that had accompanied her near blackout and release of accidental magic. 

They end up sprawled on the bed together, her in the middle, after Lucius used his wand to repair damage from her burst of accidental magic and cast a cleansing charm over all of them. It was an inadequate substitute for a shower but was a nice temporary fix. In any case, she doubted she could move enough to get up the stairs. A green satin sheet magically slid up the bed and over them.

“That was without a doubt the most incredible experience of my life,” Draco mumbled beside her, making her giggle. “I’ve never seen anyone lose control of their magic during sex before.”

Lucius curled up behind her, spooning her in his arms. “It’s only happened once before with us.”

“Really?” Draco lifted his head, curious. “Was there another witch or wizard with you?”

“No, you’re the only person we’ve ever brought into our bed,” she replied. 

This news seemed to please him, and he squeezed her hand gently in response.

“How do you feel, darling?”

“Mmmm...like all my bones have turned to jelly. I don’t think I can move.”

Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed 12. 

“It’s Christmas,” she pointed out to both men. “Happy Christmas!”

Draco lifted her hand to his face and kissed her palm. “Happy Christmas.”

From behind her, Lucius kissed her cheek, ear and neck. “Happy Christmas, darling.”

Draco lifted his head to glance back at the Christmas tree. “I’m not sure whatever is under that tree could top what I just experienced.”

Lucius chuckled into Hermione’s hair. “I can guarantee there’s  _ nothing _ under that tree that could remotely compare to what you just experienced.”

“I put a lot of effort into gifts for both of you!” Hermione exclaimed, tired but indignant. 

“I don’t know, Granger - I’d take you wrapped up in a bow any day.”

“He’s right - you do make such a pretty present.”

“Well, I suppose that’s true,” she offered in response, “But I still expect you to appreciate your gifts in the morning.”

Draco yawned. “You’ve worn me out. I need sleep before presents.”

“We all need sleep, son,” Lucius said in a tired voice, reaching for his wand to draw more blankets over them. “Let’s just sleep here for the rest of the night.”

Draco fussed about in the bed, rearranging pillows and blankets until they were just right, and then to Hermione’s amusement, he dropped off to sleep almost immediately. 

After a few more minutes with only the sound of light breathing and the crackling of the fire to keep her company, Hermione shifted to face her husband. Lucius was still awake, and he smiled at her, the skin around his eyes crinkling in a rare show of his age. 

“I’m such a lucky witch,” she murmured softly to him. 

He brushed her hair back from her face and then slid his hand around to cradle her face, his thumb rubbing her jaw in a gentle back and forth motion that was incredibly soothing.

“Oh?”

“I have you. And you’ve helped me discover all of those parts of me I might have let remain hidden. You’ve always known when to push me and when to pull back.”

For a moment she thought his eyes looked a little bit watery, but that was surely a trick of the firelight, for Lucius Malfoy was not the sort of wizard who became overly emotional or sentimental.

“It’s been a tremendous privilege to guide your descent into debauchery.”

“As the eager pupil, I have to ask my dedicated teacher, have I met your expectations? Was my orchestration of sin sufficient?” she asked. It wasn’t that she was looking for praise. Well, not really. Okay, maybe just a  _ little  _ bit.

A smile graced his handsome face and he dipped his head to kiss her. 

“‘You are the only woman who ever answered the demands of my imagination,’”* he said softly.

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise at his quote from the very book she’d used in her seduction of Draco. “And you said you hadn’t read it!” 

“I hadn’t when you first asked. I read it later, and it was rather inspiring. I mean it though. Every word. You are perfect.”

Her heart was full almost to bursting. “I love you Lucius.”

“I love you too, my darling.”

  
  


~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * “You are the only woman who ever answered the demands of my imagination.”  
> ― Anaïs Nin, Henry and June: From "A Journal of Love": The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1931-1932
> 
> And that's all she wrote! Thank you for coming along on this smutty journey! I hope you've enjoyed the Malfoys an their season of sin. Merry Christmas all.
> 
> \- Elle

**Author's Note:**

> The poem Hermione reads is real. It was written by Alfred Bryan, and if you’ve seen the movie, ‘Titanic,’ then you’ve also heard another of his creations: in 1910, he wrote the song “Come Josephine, in my flying machine,” that Jack and Rose sing in the film.
> 
> Enthralled by Alfred Bryon
> 
> Teach me to sin -  
> In love’s forbidden ways,  
> For you can make all passion pure;  
> The magic lure of your sweet eyes  
> Each shape of sin makes virtue praise.
> 
> Teach me to sin -  
> Enslave me to your wanton charms,  
> Crush me in your velvet arms  
> And make me, make me love you.  
> Make me fire your blood with new desire,  
> And make me kiss you - lip and limb,  
> Till sense reel and pulses swim.  
> Aye! Even if you hate me,  
> Teach me to sin.


End file.
